Inescapable
by LotornoMiko
Summary: Lenneth has come to accept life with Lezard but she didn't always...Clearly a Lezard Lenneth pairing. Non con warnings.
1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimer time. I do not own Lenneth Valkyrie, Lezard Valeth, or anything else from Valkyrie Profile. That honor belongs to Square Enix and Tri Ace. No do I make any money off of this fic. It's done for pure entertainment purposes.

-Michelle

It is the noise that first wakes me. The closed door can't quite muffle the screams of the dying. Anymore that it can prevent me from scenting flesh burning. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't want to see what is going on beyond this room. And yet the screams continue, fear and desperation being eaten away by pain. It calls to me, though my name is never spoken. I am not even a thought in the minds of those that are dying.

My movements are slow as I sit up. Sleep still clings to me, trying to lull me back down to dreams. But I ignore the soft invite of my pillow, listening to the sounds of my movement. The bed creaks softly, the sheet rustles as I untangle it from around me. Most chilling of all is the sound of a chain clanking. It is a sound I am used to, but have not yet grown to accept. Perhaps I never will.

The chain's rattle follows me as I step bare foot across the floor. The plush carpet fibers cushion underneath my feet, soft and ticklish. But no urge is within me to giggle. I've left laughter behind me, it has no place in my life now.

I'm in no rush as I walk towards the door. The scene outside it will wait. The screams assure me of that. I wish they were louder. Then perhaps they'd drown out the tell tale sound of the chain.

With that thought in mind, I move to open the door's latch. As it creaks open a crack, the sounds do grow louder. I pick up on things I hadn't noticed before. The sounds of swords clashing, the sparks they bring up. The determined voices of those who aren't yet dying, and a maddeningly familiar laughter. That laughter is as wicked as it is insane, and a chill works it way down my body.

I don't open the door all the way. There is no point. The chain won't extend far enough to allow me to pass through it. I can only stand there, my face pressed into the small opening that allows me to gaze out into the corridor.

There are warriors out there, armed men and women, fighting valiantly. They ignore the horrors of their companions who have been roasted alive, their focus on a single target. That target is a man. He stands with his back to the door, allowing me to only see the flare of his cape as he casts spell after spell. His short hair is badly mussed, strands swaying wildly in the wind that he has conjured.

That wind batters the warriors about, but never comes close to putting out the flames that are charring several people to death. He laughs at the sight of this, giving an unhurried gesture with his right arm that has jagged stone erupting from the ground. The stone impales a woman where she stands, her blood splattering everywhere. By the time it withdraws from her body, the tiled floor is undisturbed.

Her body catches on fire. There are still three more warriors trying to reach him. I can see the fear in the youngest's eyes. He wants to run but already knows he has zero chance of escape. So he chooses to face his death with honor. All on the hopes his soul will be accepted into Valhalla. But Valhalla is no more, the shining Realm known as Asgard in complete ruins. There are no Gods to want human souls, no Valkyries left to escort the fallen home.

It would be easy to blame this all on the man the warriors are fighting. He has committed many sins, done many evil things in order to obtain his heart's desire. But there is fault in me too. I know that. If I hadn't been born so beautiful. If I hadn't been so overconfident when facing him. If I hadn't been so new to my own powers. Many variables could have ensured things were different.

I know it is useless to wish for that which I cannot change. There is only torture in that path. Why torment myself with dreams of a world that is different, a world that is free from his tyranny? Especially when the reality is so decidedly different. The Gods dead, many of the nine realms destroyed, people forced to pay homage to the one responsible for all this.

Not everyone accepts what has happened. The people are unhappy with the change. Many choose to fight the new order. It's why they come here. They have no chance of killing him. They place their hopes not on their blades, but on me. If they can get past his defenses long enough for one of them to set me free, they think things will be different. They don't seem to understand I have already been beaten. My wings clipped, my hope extinguished. I am so used to his ways I am barely more than a shadow of my former self.

It wasn't always like this. Once I was free. Once there was no chains to hold me down. That seems like a millennia ago. Long before he smiled at me. Long before he was covered in the blood of my friends, my sisters, even my lover. Tears no longer prick my eyes when I think of their faces, their deaths a distant memory that holds little effect on me.

It is that distance that allows me now to watch, utterly unfeeling as he so ruthlessly slaughters the warriors who have come for me. He will never allow them to get any closer than they already are. It is mere cruelty that he allowed them so near. He loves to extinguish hope, enjoys snatching apparent victory right out of their hands. I'm so close these warriors had a moment of hope, thinking the quest was at an end. That the realm's torment would finally be over with, hope restored to the world.

It is not now, nor will it ever be over. I've accepted it, why can't they? They are just wasting their all too brief lives with this pointless pursuit. I can do nothing for them, I've long since stopped caring. The world beyond my prison has ceased to exist for me, the people there nothing more than shadows. The part of me that cared about the world has gone quiet, it's voice silenced with a whimper.

A whimper much like the youngest of the remaining three voices now. He's on the ground, one arm stretched out towards my door. His eyes are pleading, his voice rising in supplication. He wants so badly for me to save him, his hand reaching towards me. What can I give him in this state? I turn away, letting the door fall shut completely. It doesn't succeed in drowning out his panicked cry, or the sound of Gungnir being thrust into his body.

The last two of my would be rescuers will be made quick work of. He won't even work up a sweat, so effortless is his killings. If I went to the door now, I'd see him. Standing amidst the bodies, drenched in their blood. The smoke of the roasted flesh would cling to his clothes, and he'd wear a look he doesn't ever knowingly show me. It is a look of pure rage, his eyes narrowed, flashing with anger. And all because he hates when people try to take me from him.

The proof of how strong that hate is, is just outside my door. He doesn't hold back with those he views as thieves. He'd never let them lay their hands on me, any more than he would show me that particular expression. Even when I resisted, he never got as angry with me as he does with these warriors.

The screams have stopped, the last of the warriors dead. He won't come to me just yet. He'll be busy making sure no trace of the bodies are left to stink up the hall and the surrounding rooms. But eventually he will come, freshly showered, but still smelling faintly of the blood that had clung to him so recently. It nearly overrides his personal scent, that of the spicy zing of magic, and the chemicals he uses in his alchemy.

The scent of blood on him should sicken me. It is a reminder that it is a murderer who embraces me. But it is just one more thing I am used to, to the point it no longer affects me. What does one more body's worth of blood matter, when he's killed thousands? The deaths dirty my hands, just as surely as they sully his. It is for me that he's killed. It is to keep me that he's destroyed, that he will continue to bring death and ruin upon any who hold the ambition to try and separate me from his side.

It is with this knowledge that I part my lips for his kiss. He is always eager for me, but never so much as when he's fought off the threats to his happiness. I can tell by his murmur that he is pleased by my lack of resistance. It is something he'll never tire of, this acceptance in me. It wasn't always this way, in the beginning I fought. Fought his expressed affection, denied his claims of love. A small eternity passed before I began to tire of a struggle that seemed endless.

How long have I been with him? Time has stopped turning for us. We simple are. I have a feeling it will always be this way, this room my prison, his private paradise. I'm the key to his happiness, my body used to soothe the savage within him. When the back of my legs hit the mattress, I do not resist. I go down, and he follows, never breaking the kiss. What need do we have of air, when we can breathe of each other.

The familiar weight of him pins me down. I am reminded of the first time, the memory coming to me in startling clarity. Then too he pinned me, using his weight to hold my struggling form down even as he captured my wrists in his hand. His kisses felt like fire, painful and burning. Everywhere he touched, my armor and the dress I wore beneath it, seemed to melt away.

He had still been new to his divinity then. But he knew enough to make use of his new powers, using the divine energy ether to strip away my defenses as easily as he removed my clothing. He still looks at me with the same reverent awe of the first time, his gaze as worshipful as his touches are. My body is long familiar with being caressed by him, I dare say I long to be touched by his expert hands.

Back then I knew only revulsion, crying out panicked though he tried his best to put me at ease. It mattered not that first time, I was inconsolable to what was happening. I couldn't believe I had been defeated, my companions slain before me. That this man, this self made God was violating me so. It mattered not how often he told me he loved me. How many times he whispered of my beauty. How he liked my spirit. His flattering tongue could not appease me, no matter what it spoke of, or what it did.

That wicked tongue of his is moving, coiling around mine. I move with him, tongue and body rubbing against his. Another pleased moan, he's shifting enough to lift off me. His hands rub up and down the length of my bare arms, warming me. I continue to undulate beneath him, my breasts rubbing against his chest. The thin fabric of my night gown can't protect me from the coarse fabric of his jacket. It abrades my nipples, allowing them to stiffen considerably. He can't possibly not notice, a chuckle escaping him.

But he doesn't move towards them, continuing to rub warmth into my arms. And still goose bumps are raised on my skin, an impatient noise escaping me. It only fuels his ego, his lips pressing more insistently against mine as our tongues duel. He always kisses me as though he would devour me, eat me alive from head to toe. Such hunger once frightened me. I had been so afraid of being consumed by his desire for me.

I can remember fighting even his kiss, my teeth coming down on his lower lip. I had tasted his blood then, cringing back even as my eyes were defiant. But he hadn't struck me. Instead his tongue snaked out to lick away the blood I had drawn, his kisses falling on my throat. Lower, past my collarbone, burning a path into my skin. My body bare and all too vulnerable. His hand had still held mine, captured and stretched above my head.

His kisses of the present mimic his actions of that first ravishment. He's broken the kiss, pausing only long enough to kiss one corner of my mouth. And then he is trailing downwards, his fingers slipping under the thin straps of my nightgown. There is no hurry, no rush to ravage me. He is confidant there will be no interference. There is no need for doubts in the moment. This will happen, and no one can stop it. Nor do I want them too, my head falling back against the pillows, my throat offered up to his kisses.

His hands jerk back, fingers snapping free the straps of my nightgown. And with their breaking, the garment is torn down my body, exposing me to my waist. There will be no salvaging of the nightgown, it is beyond repair. Beyond my care, my fingers entwining in the back strands of his hair. Once I would have pulled on them, all in an attempt to hurt him. Now I stroke and massage his scalp, encouraging his actions.

He likes my participation. His ardor is increased by it, his kisses delving lower on my body. His hands are gripping my waist now, holding me steady for his attention. His eyes gleam behind clear panes of glass, he is looking up at me even as he closes a mouth around one stiff nipple.

I do not try to stop my reaction, my mouth a perfect o. I arch my back, even as I moan, greedy for the warmth he offers me. He continues to smile, his eyes gleaming behind the panes of his glasses. He likes to watch my face as he does this. It pleases him to know no other will ever see the way I change, the way my expressions distort into that of pure pleasure. It is a face I wear only for him, my reactions unable to stop nor do I want them too.

The warmth of his mouth is around my nipple, lips pulling insistently on that stiffness. His tongue rolls over the tip of my flesh, laving further sensations through me. Fire flames through me, making me burn for him. It is a pleasant heat that leaves tingles in it's wake. The tingles in turn make me itch, and only he can soothe it. Mouth, tongue, fingers, it doesn't matter what he uses just so long as he keeps touching me. Keeps loving me.

How far have I fallen? Once I would have denied that this act had any love to it. I would have seen it only as a crime perpetrated against me. But such thoughts belong to a different Lenneth, a Lenneth from a millennia ago. What was once a moment I dreaded, has now become everything to me. The confirmation of my existence, the proof that I am wanted, that I am loved.

I feel that love in every touch, in every look he sends my way. My body continues to melt beneath his, liquid pooling between my thighs. The rustle of silk echoes in my ears, the remains my nightgown being pulled free of my body. There's no time to shiver, his heat keeps me warm. I continue my dance beneath him, his body playing a tune that I cannot resist. Just as he cannot resist the enticement of my movements, his hands caressing over my sides.

I sigh and I moan, longing within me. I clutch him as close as he can be, crying out for more. I am rewarded with his smile, having pleased him with my demands. His tongue does one last, hard laving of my nipple, making me shudder in bliss. It is both a tease and a reminder. I know what that tongue of his is capable of, and how quick he is to use it. Here, there, anywhere it pleases him. And all because he's made my body the altar in which he worships daily. Sometimes hourly.

If I am the altar, then he is the prayer, his body pressing into mine with devout intent. It would be sacrilege to deny this, to deny us. So I don't, my legs falling open to welcome him inside. He sinks into me with a satisfied sound, one I can't help but echo. How different my voice is now from the revulsion I used to express. This no longer feels wrong, I am his to possess.

His hips move, and each thrust brings me closer to forgetting everything but him. I think that soon there will come a time when I don't even remember anything except him and this room. Before that happens, let me share my story one last time. The story of my descent, of the madness that ate away at all of my resistance.

To Be Continued...

So...this was originally meant to be a one shot. But then I realized I couldn't possibly convey everything I wanted in a one shot. Not without it being monstrous in size. X_X So I am hoping this will be a mini series instead. Next chapter probably won't continue in first person point of view. I'll be working on this SLOWLY...as slowly as my other VP fics. Simply cause Valkyrie Profile seems to take much more energy and time for me to write than my other fandom. (Which is crazy how easily I can write for Voltron. I wish Lezard Lenneth gave me as easy a time as Lotor and Allura.) This will be a little tricky to get to my planned ending scene...I'll probably have to use time skips...erg...

Michelle


	2. Chapter 2

When the temporal distortions first started, I barely took note of them. They were simply that small, the briefest of glimmers that hinted at a wrongness in the world. That wrongness began it's infestation in the realm of the mortals, the people of Midgard the first to suffer various oddities. The oddities manifested in their memories, the mortals becoming confused about events, history, even their own names. At any one time, there would be a handful of people each remembering the same event, but with enough key details for that memory to be different for each and every one. The differences led to such confusion that arguing broke out among the people. More so than usual, as each mortal insisting that their memory was the correct one.

It wouldn't have been such a problem if the arguments had remained about every day memories, about inconsequential things that mattered little in the long run. But then, things weren't that simple, the temporal distortions growing in power, fueling the mortal's anger in direct response.

The past would be called into question, the very history of man holding huge gaps, details becoming confused. The people could no longer remember what was real, and what was faked, the details so blurred that the existence of whole kingdoms became in doubt. The ties between the kingdoms became a tentative thing, alliances falling apart, disputes happening over territory.

The history of mortal kind is full of wars, the humans such a blood thirsty race. But the details of those wars were called into question, people no longer able to remember for certain who had emerged as the victor of what war. The reasons behind many of the wars also became lost in the confusion, which only led the animosity that is so inherent in the mortals, to spur them into greater conflicts. Inevitably, all that anger and confusion led to new wars starting, the mortals now intent on destroying one another.

Of course, a war happening here or there wasn't cause for alarm. It is as I have mentioned, a typical occurrence in the realm of mortals. However, when it appeared the entire realm of Midgard was engaged in the fighting, or soon would be, that raised my concern. And not just me! The other realms took notice, most especially the Shining one. My fellow deities have always had an invested interest in the mortals, and it became even more true once I took up Odin's throne.

I am many things, and that includes being vocal. I left it as no secret just how much I loved the mortals, that I spoke of the deep rooted connection I felt to them. It shouldn't have been a surprise to any of the Gods, not when I had spent many a lifetime living among the mortals in one incarnation to the next. Even with most of my memories still buried deep within the seal Odin had forced upon me, I still felt that connection. Felt it and cherished it.

Of course there were other reasons for me to feel so attached to the mortals. Before my ascension to the throne, long before I had become Lord Creator of all I surveyed, I had simply been a Goddess of the sixth ranking. A Valkyrie. One whose heavenly appointed task led me to work closely with the mortals and their souls. This work allowed me to see the mortals at their best and worse times, let me learn their individual stories, had me fight alongside them through their trials and tribulations. It should have come as no surprise that this fostered a closeness, one I had never felt with my own kind.

I would not call what I had with the einherjar a friendship. It was a bond that went deeper then that. I personally picked out many a soul to be brought to the heavens, grooming them into becoming warriors of the Gods. Einherjar. I was many things to the einherjar, mother, teacher, confidant. They were my pride, my joy. the manifestation of all my ambitions. And they were with me almost always, their souls locked into mine.

I have seen the advancement of many einherjar, seen them blossom and grow into fine warriors. But there was one group in particular who stands out in my mind. One group who had been with me through the toughest trials of my existence. It was this group who had helped to save me, this group who had fought besides me as I struggled against the greatest threat any of the nine realms had ever known. It was this same group who witnessed the rebirth of a Goddess, as I evolved into a new stage of being with the power to destroy the trickster and rebuild all he had ruined.

It was those same einherjar that I turned to in these troubling times. I would send them down to the realm of Midgard, all in order to ferret out the reason behind these wars. To stop them if they could. The reports the einherjar gave to me was troubling, leaving me to fear that Ragnarok had not been averted after all. And while I worried, the temporal distortions continued to grow out of control, changing the very face of the people of Midgard.

As the temporal distortions grew in strength, so did the changes. Eyes and hair changed color, mouths and noses changed shapes. All as a result of some discrepancy in a person's family line. The distortions were affecting personal history, messing up the time line so that people would be exchanged. Instead of an ancestor marrying into the right family, they fell into bed with another. Even gender came into doubt, a people changing. One moment a man, the next a woman, leaving the people unable to remember which was right for any one individual.

The temporal distortions began to move into the other realms, the people there just as affected as the mortals. Landmarks began to shift, changing shape or even location. The temporal distortions were no longer slight glimmers, now affecting larger and larger areas by the hour. The Gods themselves began to feel the changes, their memories affected, even their lives. Some began to shift in and out of existence, as though something in the past called into question their right to live.

It wasn't just minor deities that were affected. None were left untouched, not even my family, my sisters appearing before me. What should have been a welcome sight proved disturbing, for no real explanation was offered as to how they could be there before me. My sisters were as confused as I was, neither one understanding what was happening. To them or the nine realms! Nor was there stability in their arrival. At any one instant, they would wink out of existence, Hrist dead once more. Silmeria would alter between being trapped in the vampire Lord's castle, and two other states. One where she existed, alive and free, the other where she faded away completely. That fading was the most troubling of all, for it hinted that she was as dead as Hrist, in at least one of the realities the temporal distortions came from.

I mention realities, though at the time I had not yet realized the truth of what was happening. I sincerely believed this was a form of Ragnarok, the very world in jeopardy of being destroyed completely. The temporal distortions continued to grow, gaining enough power for them to manifest a presence. One I could view with my own eyes. Those fields of energy were comprised of silver and white lights, ones that wavered and distorted everything they passed over. And as those distortions caressed over the land of Asgard, whole buildings were reduced to rubble in an instant. The land, once fertile and green blackened, and even the great tree, Yggsdrasil, tried to wither in place.

I was still so new to my powers. I tried desperately to heal the land to little effect. My attempts were like putting a flimsy bandage over a wound that needed stitches. The affects of the temporal distortions could not be stropped, could not be turned aside for long. Always they flourished, always they destroyed, and it wasn't long before I found that many of my divine pantheon were gone. They had simply faded away into nothing.

My trusted einherjar continued to roam Midgard. The connection we shared, the power I fueled into them, protected most from experiencing the worst of the distortions. But even they went through some changes, Arngrim, the most trusted of my einherjar disappearing completely. And with his existence called into question, I feared it was the start of the end for my remaining einherjar. And yet I couldn't called them back to Asgard, instead urging them to be quicker about their work down on Midgard.

My burdens were increasing, I found myself trying to hold the very fabric of reality together. My powers were strained to their maximum output as I struggled to keep the world from falling apart completely. I would kick myself when I realized it wasn't the destruction of the realms that was happening. At least, not in the way one would think. A world WAS dying, but through it's death, another world was trying to take it's place. To impose a new reality on the realms and their inhabitants. What was worse was that it was perilous close to succeeding. Only through my struggles did the onslaught of this coming reality stay it's hand.

As far as I was concerned, it might as well have been Ragnarok that was happening. So many dead, including many of the Gods. Even powerful Freya had ceased to exist, her life snuffed out in the mere blinking of an eye. The mortals down on Midgard continued to wage war, but now their reasons were based on blind panic and fear. Even they had sensed something of the wrongness of the two realities converging in on each other.

Distracted as I was with the responsibility of keeping my world intact, I didn't consider the possibilities of why this was happening. I didn't think of the manipulations time travel would have on a reality, didn't realize the effect that a single person, good or bad, could have on the world. I wouldn't think of the possibilities, until the einherjar made their discovery. The time machine inside the ruins of Dipan, activated and humming with power. It was there, in the very heart of Dipan that the temporal distortions were the strongest.

Einherjar were dispatched to Asgard, the ladies Mystina and Lorenta appearing before me. Their faces were lined with exhaustion, they like so many of my einherjar had not had time for proper rest. Nor would they get that rest now, the pair giving me a brief but hurried explanation of the einherjar's findings. I'd actually gasp in understanding, an understanding I feared had come to late to do the current world any good. But there was literally no time to berate one's self, might not even be time to undo the damage that had been wrought by the time machine's usage.

With both my sisters and the einherjar by my side, I would travel to Midgard. To Dipan specifically. Silmeria and Hrist would continue to wink in and out of existence, their appearances translucent and flickering rapidly. The two realties seemed uncertain of their place in either world, and I knew that at any moment they could fade away for good. That only increased my need to hurry. It was a need that was at war with the realization that I didn't yet know what to do to put a stop to all that was happening. Was it even possible to avert the other reality from replacing this one, the one I knew and loved? I did not know, but I was determined to try.

The ruins of Dipan were unchanged. It was as though in both realties, the once great kingdom had met a similar fate, Dipan falling into disrepair. An idea began to take root in my mind as I hurried past the broken remains of the city. The idea would pick and gnaw at my mind, continue to do so even as I drew my sword in preparation for the fight that was to come.

Monsters continued to make the ruins their home. They were even more ferocious than normal, an edge of fear to their actions. They too had noticed the effects the distortions were having, and it drove them into a panic. One that led them into attacking anything that moved, even their own kind. My party of five was forced to fight our way through the cities' ruins. I regret that my blade use was not as effortless as it once was. And all because I was still exerting myself, still trying to hold this reality together on sheer force of will it seemed.

My efforts left me distracted, my actions slow and sluggish. It allowed claws to scrap over the metal of my armor with ear piercing noise. Even worse was when those claws touched unprotected skin, my arms being torn open with scratches. I surely would have been overwhelmed, forced to make a decision between saving myself of saving this reality. Thankfully, my sisters and einherjar were there to lend their strength towards battling these foes that plagued me.

SIlmeria's bow sang often, arrows flickering in and out of existence as they soared towards their marks. Hrist and her spear cut down many an undead without the Goddess so much as drawing a ragged breath. Mystina and Lorenta, einherjar mages, lifted their voices to the heavens as they chanted out the words needed to activate their spells. Searing light and burning flames would eat away at many a monster, and soon the path to the castle was clear.

I could still make out hints of the castle's former glory. Even time had not been able to weather down all of the stone that made up the building. And though the windows were shattered, color glinted in the broken remains of the glass. I could remember the pictures those colors had made. I had after all traveled briefly to Dipan's past, to the moment before everything had gone wrong for the kingdom. But that trip felt like an eternity ago, even though in truth only a handful of months had passed.

As we hurried down the street that led into the castle's courtyard, I continued to let my thoughts run wild. That included the idea that was gnawing at me, letting my suspicions build as I neared the castle's doors. Something about Dipan's unchanged state left me uneasy, troubled. As did the fact that I had left the time machine here, intact and just waiting for the wrong person to use it. True I had been working under Odin's orders back then, but why hadn't I thought to come back once I was free of my servitude?

The sad fact of the matter was I had thought the time machine unimportant. I had placed a barrier upon it, sealing it away so that no one, mortal or God could use it. Doubts filled me now, making me wonder where I had gone wrong with the sealing spell. Even more important, was the wonder of just who or what had activated the device. I once again cursed my inaction, knowing I should have destroyed the time machine the first chance I had.

My upset clearly showed on my face, drawing the attention of my sister Silmeria. The youngest of the three Valkyries would give me a reassuring smile, telling me it would all work out. I could not return her smile, wondering how she could be so certain of something I doubted so strongly. I wasn't the only one, my oldest sister Hrist would let out a derisive snort. She'd never say it was my fault, she wasn't that mean spirited. But I knew she blamed me, all because of my inaction where the time machine was concerned.

I would not miss the reproving look Silmeria flashed our older sister. I marveled at her faith in me, at both their determination to save this reality. A reality where they had no meaningful existence, a reality where they were trapped or dead. And yet both were just as determined to see the world in which they had no future, saved. I could not fail them, or the world.

Monsters lay in wait for us at the entrance to the castle. Their ambush turned pitiful, my party making quick work of the fiends. And yet I still felt impatience, knowing we couldn't afford these kind of delays. Every minute that passed, I felt the strain on my powers, my mind wanting to give in to exhaustion. I wouldn't be able to maintain my fight against the distortions much longer. That realization made my sword turn careless, my attacks clumsy. Weariness ate at me, dogging my every step.

The mages would make a sacrifice, urging my sisters and I to travel inside the castle. They would hold back this latest wave of monsters, ready to give their lives so that I could live long enough to set things right. There wasn't even time for thanks, I could only nod my agreement before Silmeria was dragging me through the castle doors. Hrist would see to their closing, locking out both my einherjar and the monsters. I could hear the screams from both sides, the two mages working their spells even as they were attacked.

It would have been a dishonor to ignore their sacrifice, to not continue deeper into the castle. There were no monsters inside the building, something, perhaps my einherjar, had driven them off. Just as they had extinguished the darkness, torches lit and hanging on every available sconce. We followed the path of the torches, our journey descending downwards.

It would be deep within the bowels of the castle that we would find the time machine. We felt it's presence long before we came across it, the power thrumming off it in waves. It left me staggered, the temporal distortion so strong I wondered how the world hadn't torn apart already.

As I fell to one knee, a voice called out to me. I barely recognized it, the voice muffled as though coming from a great distance. But that was a lie, the one who had spoken coming to stand before me. A crimson clad hand was held out to me, the gauntlet matching the red color of the man's armor. I would lift my head up slowly, and see the concerned face of my lover, Lucian. His corn colored hair was whipping about, the power radiating off the time machine was disrupting everything in these rooms. My skirt flapped wildly about my legs, my braid blew out behind me.

Eyes locked with Lucian's worried filled ones, I gratefully took his hand. He'd help me up, his strong hands ready to steady me against the onslaught of power. But this was something he couldn't protect me from, no one could. The burden was mine and mine alone to bear. But I did lean on him, my one concession of my weakness. I let his arms go around me, keeping me upright as I stared into the light that circled around the vibrating time machine. It was so bright it hurt my eyes, and yet I couldn't look away. This was the source of all our troubles, the key to the salvation of the reality.

And yet I still didn't know what to do! Even as I fought not to give in to my frustration, Lucian was speaking. "This is as close as we can get to the time machine." He nodded at a sword that had been thrust into the stone floor. It was Kashell's preferred blade, and it was being used as marker to ward off the rest of the einherjar from going any closer to the light. "Anyone who has stepped past that sword, has simply vanished!"

"Vanished?" I repeated, my weary mind trying to process this information and what it meant. How many einherjar had died to make this discovery? Or were they even dead, but sent elsewhere, to a different time and place? I couldn't risk lowering my shields, but I wanted to taste the power of the time machine myself. Maybe then it would give me a clue as to what to do, give us all the hope that we would survive what was happening.

Standing taller, I stopped leaning into Lucian's embrace. He read the intention off of me, and tightened his arms around me. "No, Lenneth, no!" Lucian cried in protest. "You can't!"

"I have to." I told him. The others all exchanged looks, trying to figure out just what I intended to do. I heard a female gasp, the young Jelanda looking dismayed when I pulled free of Lucian's hold, and stepped towards the light. He went to follow me, and I shoved him back. "No, I go alone."

He might have followed me any way, but Hrist stepped forward to grab him. They struggled, but an einherjar is no match for a Goddess, even one who was fading in and out of existence. Casting one last look Lucian's way, I moved forward until I was even with Kashell's sword. I didn't know what would happen when I took the next step, but my courage did not falter. I took a deep breath, the power was almost suffocating me this close, and stepped pass the marker.

Screams echoed behind me, my einherjar unable to watch without being affected. I continued forward, coming up against the barrier of light. It was like walking through water, my movements slow and opposite the imagined currents. Difficult though it was to move, I kept on walking, each step a small agony. Until finally I pulled free of the light, coming out the other side with a plop of sound.

The time machine lay several feet in front of me, the very floor inside this circle was shaking. The hum of power grew to deafening promotions, and as I stared at it, I wondered if it was really hopeless. Destroying the time machine now wouldn't solve any problems. I would have to travel to the past, to the time before it had been activated. Destroy it then to prevent it's use now, and maybe, just maybe the reality would reset itself back to normal.

But I wasn't sure what time period to travel to! It was then that the thought that had been gnawing at me all this time came into focus. I thought of Dipan, how it seemed untouched by the temporal distortions. How nothing had changed where this fallen kingdom was concerned. It made realize that whoever was responsible for this trouble, must have gone back into Dipan's past. It stood to reason if I followed them into the past, I could undo the damage they had done. I could stop this clash of realities from ever happening!

For the first time in days I felt elated. My heart was lifted, I was sure I would save everyone. My steps were confidant, putting me in touching distance of the device. And then it happened. In a blink of my eye, the divine treasure, the sacred spear Gungnir slammed into the very center of the time machine. The power went wild, the barrier of light expanding outwards, passed Kashell's sword. I heard Jelanda's scream end just as abruptly as it had begun.

Whirling to the right, I turned in time to see Lucian be eaten up by the light. It tore him apart by his very molecules, until there was nothing left. The other einherjar suffered similar, and even my sisters screamed, flickering out of existence once the light reached them. I could only gape in shock, listening to the horrified scream that echoed all around me. It would even register at first that the scream had belonged to me.

To Be Continued...

I know I said it was probably not gonna continue in first person perspective...but I tried it a different way, and hated how it read. So did some trashing, and rewrote it in this perspective. I feel much more satisfied with this attempt than the other one!

Michelle

Evilerk, er yes...though not the reaction I was hoping for. Thanks all the same!

Kaelin Voidshadow, why thank you! Hope you didn't get in trouble reading that chapter at work! XD

Alpha Huntress, thanks! I'm glad you liked the perspective I chose. I hope it continues to serve the fic well. :) Yes...the upcoming chapters will mainly be back story, the history between Lezard and Lenneth, how she got to this point. Which I fear I will bungle. I have a twisty ending scene I am trying to get too...but I can't say anymore about that without spoiling everything. I think this is kinda my stockholm syndrome Lenneth too...there's no telling how long they've been together...I'm imagining millenia...enough of eternity to get her giving up on any hope of things changing...or even wanting things to change perhaps..:o


	3. Chapter 3

I can't begin to tell you how it felt to stand there, helpless to prevent the wiping out of my einherjar. That loss extended to my lover Lucian, and my sisters Hrist and Silmeria. All gone in an instant, faster than I could blink my eyes closed. Tears came to my eyes, but there was no time to let loose with them. Shocked and as grief stricken as I was, I was still battling the press of this other reality. A reality that had grown stronger with the apparent destruction of the time machine.

Voice still screaming in protest, I forced myself to move. To turn away from the ever expanding ring of light. It would continue to move, to reach past this room, to creep into every corner of the world. All in an effort to overpower my reality with a new one. That the light hadn't exploded outwards in an instant was only thanks to my attempts at suppression. An attempt that was greatly draining me of my strength.

Battling exhaustion and grief, I turned to assess the damage. And there I saw it, Gungnir stabbed deep into the center of the time machine. The device was shattering, cracks appearing all over it. The divine lance thrummed with power. I had a moment to wonder where the sacred treasure had come from. It had been among the first of the four treasures to go missing when this other reality began sending it's temporal distortions across the nine realms.

But there was little time to linger on the hows and whys of Gungnir's reappearance. The realities were struggling, this other timeline trying to uproot my world. It left me staggered, near suffocated as I stepped towards the time machine. My head was pounding, throbbing with every breath as I fought to keep from losing grip on my reality. It was a draining experience, my reserves of power extinguishing rapidly. Would I collapse before I could enact change? I did not know. Nor did I know if the time machine was in a salvageable state.

Power leaked out of the cracks in the device. If I hadn't been Lord Creator, even I would have withered and died from the power ghosting along my skin. I made my painstakingly slow way to the time machine, hand extended towards Gungnir's hilt. I prayed for the strength needed to fight this, prayed that the time machine wasn't damage irrevocably.

Before my fingers could close around Gungnir's center, it was wrenched away from me. A powerful new force had entered the area around the time machine. The winds seemed to pick up in speed, and the air grew stifling, nearly choking me with every breath. My vision grew dark, I was seeing shadows where none should exist. My shoulders sagged, my posture hardly ideal for attack. It was even worse for a defensive stance, my guard completely open.

Power would slam into me, knocking me back a full foot from the time machine. I managed not to fall over, though my one knee nearly touched the ground as I struggled to remain upright. It was then that I heard the laughter. Elated, triumphant, smug. All those emotions conveyed in one mocking tone, it made my teeth grind together.

I thought I recognized the voice behind the laughter. My eyes did the slightest of widening, disbelief the chief emotion in them. Memories were coming to me, of a man, a mortal so insane he thought it his right to love a Goddess. His sins flashed before me, memories playing out. I remembered then my first encounter with this mad man, the love sick fool murdering a couple on the roof of his home. All in order to lure me to him. I remembered the vessels he had made, the countless elves and humans he had killed to craft a container for my soul. I had destroyed nearly all of those, and it was fate's own version of a mockery that the one I had left intact was the body I now inhabited.

One act of goodness couldn't possibly outweigh the wrongs he had committed. Lorenta wasn't the only einherjar that had come to me as part of his manipulations. Mystina too had died at his hand. How many more had died that I never learned of? How many sins blackened his soul?

As quickly as I thought that, I was drawing my sword. My action wasn't as smooth as I would have liked, my arm moving slow as though through molasses. "Show yourself!" I screamed in demand. It appeared my demand was all he had been waiting for, the laughter racketing up a notch as gold lights began to spark in front of me. I reacted with pure instinct, slashing my sword through the light.

It would waver and distort a moment, and then a person would come into existence. A man. One with a rich color of brown for his hair, and blazing amethyst jewels for his eyes. Those eyes seemed to seethe with heat, staring boldly at me as he came into view. Gungnir was clenched in his right fist, his left arm sweeping out as he dropped into an exaggerated bow.

"A greetings to you, Lenneth Valkyrie." He smiled at me. I did not return the expression. Instead I hissed out a name, my fingers clenching tighter on my sword's hilt.

"Lezard Valeth!"

He straightened, expression one of pure delight as he gazed at me. "Ah, you remember me. How flattering."

I had meant no such thing, scowling back at him. He was an infidel, a defiler of souls. A law breaker, and now a reality ruiner. He had somehow escaped the destruction that had ravaged Asgard and Midgard during Loki's attempts to bring about Ragnarok. It was an escape that left him the only mortal to survive, the only mortal to be free of my influence. He was a dangerous and unpredictable element in the world I had recreated, and I cursed myself then for not taking the measures needed to contain him.

"What have you done?" I cried out aloud. Was it him I asked that question, or did I ask it of myself? Either way, it was Lezard who offered an answer. It wasn't one to my liking, my scowl deepening.

"I've merely taken the steps needed to gain everything I could ever want." His eyes were intent on me, his lips curled in an odd twist of a smile.

"For such a selfish reason, you've violated time, distorted our reality!" I demanded, my sword arm seeming to shake with my anger. "You've nearly succeeded in ruining our world. Even now, it is on the verge of disappearing, replaced with what I do not know. Nor do I want to find out!"

"It is not selfish to want love." He countered. My eyes narrowed at that. "To strive for it, to reach for and do everything in your power to claim it."

"I don't know what it is you feel, but it is not love!" I retorted. The two realities continued their war within me, my power trying to quell this new one's eager thrust for dominance. I fought not to show that struggle on my face, glaring at him.

He frowned in turn. "Do you presume to know what is in my heart?" Lezard tsked then. "Lenneth Valkyrie...how little you truly know of the beatings of a man's heart."

"Is it love to destroy reality as we know it?" I demanded. "Is it love to twist time to your demands, to kill indiscriminately in order to possess a single being?" I made a scoffing sound then, my own voice mocking. "You know nothing of love. Just highhanded acts and force."

"You fail to appreciate my acts of love." He retorted. He hadn't lost his smile. "The lengths I have gone to, all in order to win you for myself."

"I am no prize to be taken!" I shouted, and this time I moved, sword slashing at his middle. He wavered and distorted, gold sparkles appearing where my sword cut. I couldn't help but widen my eyes in shock, gaping at him as his body seamlessly became whole once more. "What manner of trickery is this?" I demanded, not yet understanding what I was up against.

Again that laughter, excitement at the heart of it. That excitement reflected in his eyes as he looked at me, Lezard near gloating. "Can you not guess, Goddess?" He asked of me. "Can you not feel what I have become?"

I should have known in an instant just what had been wrought here. But I was struggling to hang onto my world. It left my senses dulled, kept me blind to the power emanating from him. I lashed out with my sword again, wanting him dead so that I could focus all my attention on the damaged time machine. But like before, my sword passed through him, gold sparkles mending what should have been a mortal blow.

He didn't laugh this time. Instead he sighed, tsking over my inability to understand what it was I was facing. My sword moved again, this time I tried to take his head. Instantly, Gungnir was brought to block my blade. The two weapons ground against each other, metals flashing with sparks.

"I did not come here to fight you, Lenneth Valkyrie." Lezard told me. Every time Gungir moved, it was with effortless ease. I couldn't help but marvel at how he handled the divine lance, blocking my sword's every thrust.

"A fight is all you will get!" I retorted, trying not to pant. The power I was expending to save the reality was draining me in other ways. It was all I could do to wield my sword. I feared the strain was apparent even to him, the smile back on his face. And yet he made no move towards me, only ever defending against my attacks. He was toying with me, content to let me expend my energy on a pointless endeavor.

I was as angry as I was impatient. I wanted him to be gone, to be out of my way so I could explore the time machine in peace. I needed to see if it was repairable, and if I could still follow time's threads back to when Dipan still flourished. I was desperate to see if I could unravel the tangles he had made of the time line. I wanted to save this reality. I wanted my einherjar returned to me. I wanted Lucian well and alive. The chance existed that I could save all if I could access the device's time powers.

But Lezard was proving quite able at defending himself against my attacks. It was infuriating that this worm of a human could stand toe to toe with a Goddess. With the Lord Creator of the realms. And yet he was holding his own, not even winded while I suffered. The other reality manifested as pounding in my head, screaming it's demands. It wanted me to stop fighting, to give in and let it take over my world. I refused to make it easy for it, fighting with nearly all my attention used towards the suppression of this other reality.

It was safe to say I feared this other reality. I had seen just a taste of it's power, seen what the Shining Realm was reduced to under it's influence. I didn't want a world where the Gods were dead, where this insane mortal's desires came to fruition. I fought and I struggled, and knew it wasn't going to be enough. This new reality would have it's way, and would take me down, kicking and screaming.

And yet I gamely held on, clinging to the last remnants of my world. Actual sweat beaded on the sides of my face. It was proof of how much I was exerting myself. For all of Lezard's pleasure, his gaze turned concerned. He hopped back a few steps out of my sword's reach, all to better study me as I advanced towards him.

"You are looking ill Goddess."

"Spare me your false concern!" I snarled at him, teeth bared. Something was going to give, one way or another. I feared it was me, my body breaking, my mind torn apart as the reality crushed me under it's foot.

"I speak with the truth of one who loves you." I screamed in retort to that, trying to drown out his words even as I ran the last foot to him. He was no longer laughing, looking increasingly worried over my weakened state. He wasn't the only one, I worried for myself. Just as I worried for the world that would be lost should I buckle any further.

"Lenneth Valkyrie, stop this." His tone was commanding, Lezard bringing Gungnir to clash against my sword. I was pushed back several steps by his defending blow, and quicker than I could breathe out a protest his free hand was touching my cheek. The soft leather of his glove was warm against my skin, the knave actually had the nerve to caress my cheek with his fingers.

I screeched in outrage, lashing out with my sword. He nearly toppled over backwards to avoid it, then righted himself. The very fingers that had touched my cheek now pushed up his glasses. Concerned amethyst look at me, Lezard shaking his head no. "You only hurt yourself."

It grated to hear him say that. And all because it was the truth. And yet what else could I do? An entire world's existence was on my shoulders. Nine realms of people depending on me to set things right. I even hoped that if this other reality could be averted, those who had been lost would return, whole once more. I viewed Lezard as an obstacle against setting things right. He needed to be eliminated. It did not matter if it was now or it was later, so long as he was gone.

My eyes shifted towards the time machine. It was still leaking power at an alarming rate. I thought to myself if I could only get near enough to use it. To tap into it's power and travel to the time before everything went to Hel. But Lezard read the intent on my face, moving at the same instant I did.

"Not so fast!" He cried out, thrusting Gungnir into another part of the time machine. I cried out in pain, feeling the strain within me grow heavier yet. It seemed with each piece of the time machine destroyed, the stronger the reality he was trying to force onto my world grew. What would happen if he succeeded in breaking apart the device completely? Would I even be able to survive the ensuing surge of power?

"Stop!" I cried out. I meant to be commanding. It came out more desperate plea than anything. He didn't react to my voice, breaking another part of the machine, leaving me staggered. My left hand clutched at my breast plate, heart beating ever so fast beneath it. This struggle might prove to be the death of me yet, but I was determined to bring Lezard down as well.

My sword stabbed forward. I thought he was open to the attack with Gungnir otherwise engaged. At the last possible second he turned, my sword passing harmlessly through the space he had occupied just a moment ago. He continued his attack on the time device, a crystal in the center shattering. I bit back a scream, the other reality's weight brining me down to one knee.

"You..." I could barely speak, gasping for air. My world was hanging on by a sliver thin thread. It wouldn't take much to sever it. He knew it too, looking towards me with the strangest smile. But victory gleamed in his eyes. Lezard lifted Gungnir high over his head, my lips urgently parting to protest what he was about to do. If I spoke the words they were lost to the roar in my head, the other reality like the oncoming tide of the ocean's currents.

When Gungnir stabbed into the final remain of the time machine, my other leg gave out. I ended up sprawled on the floor, writhing in pain. I could not hear, could not see, at least not of what was happening around me. My senses were full of the internal struggle within me. The other reality was coming, and if I continued to fight against it, I would die just as surely as Lucian and my sisters had.

There was only one option left to me. Though my heart was heavy with protest, I let loose my beloved world. And as soon as I did, a great pressure was lifted from me. The light which distorted everything it touched? It had been creeping outwards slowly, in an ever expanding circle. Without my struggle to delay it, it exploded outwards in an instant, transforming all of the nine realms.

This new reality settled in on the world, people changing, people dying. Whole histories rewritten. It left the people of the nine realms confused. They weren't sure what they had been doing when the change came on them, and indeed most if not all did not even realize they had been transformed. The new reality was forcing it's timeline on the realms, everything changing in an instant.

Nearly everything. I still retained my powers. And though I grieved inside for the loss of my world, I also felt a new kind of calm settle within me. There was peace inside my head, the pounding headaches gone. I had been struggling for days with the temporal distortions, exhausting myself to the point of collapse. Now I felt renewed, almost energized.

I would put that energy to good use, my eyes snapping open an instant before Lezard could touch me. I saw his hand hesitate, the man bent down on one knee besides me. Again that concerned look as if he actually cared if I was hurt or not. I thought to myself that he should be concerned with himself for a tigress had been unleashed.

My hand grabbed hold of his, that offending appendage being thrust back. Such was the force of my push that Lezard actually lost his balance. I kicked out with my legs, snapping upright at the same time as he. My sword was lost, and I did not dare take my eyes off him to look for it. My mind rallied insults, accusations demanding to be voice. World destroyer, time manipulator, fiend of the foulest kind.

I settled for something supremely simple, one word that seemed to convey well all that he had done. "Murderer!" He didn't try to deny it, beckoning me closer in invitation. I took him up on it, charging towards him with my hands clenched into fists. My first punch would catch him on the right cheek, his head turning to the side. There was force in my punch, my knuckles encased in my metal gauntlets.

Another punch would land, an uppercut on his chin. I felt satisfied to hear bone crunch, even as I wondered why he didn't try to defend himself better. I began to beat him, growing blinded with my rage, my need to kill the source of all my recent troubles. When he fell over, I grew cocky, confidant I would be able to kill him with my bare hands. After all, I was a Creator unleashed, none of my powers diverted in this moment.

I was overconfident, not realizing the trap I was walking myself in. He was letting me tire myself out, letting me exert all my anger and strength in beating him. I didn't know his own powers were healing every punch landed near instantaneously. I was acting the fool, no longer cautious but giving in to blind emotion. If I had stopped to think even for a second, I might have realized what it was he had become.

But he was suppressing his power. There was none of that tell tale glow about him, his energy reading as nothing more than a man. How was I to know I was facing a newly made God? One whose power had surpassed even Lord Odin's?

He was a danger. To the world, and more importantly to me. I'd continue to attack him, seeing what I wanted to see. That of some weakling whose lust had led him to ruin all I had held dear. I would end up on my knees besides him, panting in exertion from the effect of pummeling him over and over. How long the beating had gone on for, I could not say. But I thought him dead, or close to it. After all, he laid so still, eyes close behind the broken panes of his glasses.

One last shuddery gasp for air, and then I was rising. I was intent on finding my sword, ready to carve out his blackened heart. It was as much a mistake to turn my back on him as it was to believe I had incapacitated him. He struck from behind, arms winding around my body. Lezard dared to press a kiss at the crook of my shoulder, just between my armor's shoulder pads and the thick leather of my dress' high collar. It burned as though he had touched my skin directly, and I shrieked indignantly.

His laughter filled the room, his arms like a vise around me. I struggled all the same, actually rocking back in an attempt to drive my head into his face. Lezard grunted, but his arms did not loosen their hold around me. I growled under my breath, and tried to stamp my booted feet on top of his. He wore leather, but my grieves were made from metal. They hurt him, his curse reverberating through the room as I escaped his hold. It would be a brief escape, the man pursuing me.

I'm not sure what expression I wore as he advanced. Whatever it was, it excited him, his eyes flashing darker with a wild look. I couldn't understand how he was still standing, why my attacks hadn't rendered him immobile. "Just what are you?" I cried out in fear.

He didn't stop, though he did smirk. "I am God." He said simply, and as if in proof, ether swirled around him from head to toe. And where it touched, the injuries I had inflicted on him healed over, the blood being cleaned away. Even his glasses were repaired, his clothing no longer wrinkled. I could only gape and gasp, shocked horror on my face now.

And yet I still retained enough sense to back away from him, not liking the excited expression he wore. The look in his eyes made me feel defenseless, as though I had been stripped of my armor and the dress beneath it. My fingers curled and uncurled, I was preparing to throw another fist should he come too close. I didn't think it would stop him, but I had to try.

This time my fist connected with the palm of his hand, Lezard stopping me mid punch. Before I could pull my hand back, he locked his fingers around it, jerking me towards him. My left hand flew, my intent to strike him with it. I had been reduced to a mere slap, and even that he stopped. His hand gripped mine cruelly, Lezard twisting my arms behind my back. I was left arching up against him, trying to avoid him as he leaned into my face.

"Lenneth Valkyrie..." His breath caressed over my lips, warm but hardly inviting. I did not want him to kiss me, did not want things to escalate any further. But his eyes had a lustful gleam to them, he was staring dreamily at me, intent on my lips. "How long I have waited..."

"Don't you dare..." I began, and then he sealed out lips together. Of course I struggled, trying to get my arms free of the painful position he held them in. But more than that, I wanted my mouth free. Free to voice the scream that was building in me. Free of the feel of his lips pressing insistently on mine. When he pushed for entrance inside, I gave it to him, my own intent vicious.

With a cry, he'd jerk back from my kiss. I'd smile at him, lips surely as bloodied as his. I had bitten him, my intent to maim if possible. I thought it a pity he had pulled back before I could do much damage.

But he didn't grow incensed, didn't so much as raise a hand to me. That left me puzzled, even as he let go of one of my arms so that he could finger the blood on his lip. He smiled at me as he did so, and a shiver went down my spine. He truly wasn't all there if he could maintain that expression after the injury I had inflicted on him.

"My Lenneth Valkyrie..." He was actually licking up the blood, pausing as though savoring the taste of it. "As spirited as I imagined." Something told me Lezard would enjoy breaking my spirit, that he would relish any fight I gave him. But what else could I do? I would not go meekly into this. And yet I screamed as he dragged me to the floor, his weight pinning me in place as he hauled my arms up over my head.

He wouldn't try for my lips again, though on occasion he stared at them longingly. But then he would sigh and shake his head no, and focus his attentions elsewhere. I could only scream and flail about ineffectually, hardly believing this was happening to me. It burned that I had failed everyone, that I had allowed another reality to take over ours. But to suffer Lezard's affections on top of my defeat? It was unbearable. And yet I couldn't weep, would not give him the satisfaction of my tears. Even as he forced my legs to part, his fingers delving into the flesh between them, I was vowing revenge. I just didn't know what form it would take, or if revenge was even possible for me any more.

To Be Continued...

Michelle

Nex Nexus, thanks. I'm trying though it might take me a while...X_X


	4. Chapter 4

As a Death Goddess, desire and it's many forms were something not familiar to me. What use would I have for passion? After all, love and lust were not something that should be taken onto the battlefield. The thought of yearning for another being had been a foreign concept to me. I had spent a great deal of eternity with my heart frozen, my soul's experiences inside my human hosts nothing more than mere dreams. And dreams were something I found were easily dismissed.

At least, until my path crossed paths with Lucian. I would not realize it at first, but that man awoke something inside me. Something that was stronger than the seal Lord Odin has placed on my memories and emotions. It would began to fragment, my attraction to my einherjar Lucian growing. I would have never acted on such emotions, but Lucian persisted in his pursuit of me. A pursuit that started merely because I resembled a girl from his past.

Of course at the time neither of us knew that the girl he remembered, had been the latest in a long line of my human hosts. Lucian would learn of this past life, and the knowledge would make him relentless. The man was determined to awake in me the girl from his past, a bold maneuver to think to supplant a goddess with the persona of some human girl.

A great many things would happen, the least of which being the near destruction of everything and everyone. But eventually the realms would be saved, and Lucian would be returned to me. I was Death Goddess no more, and ready to explore with him the emotions that Odin had denied me.

My point in telling you this, is that I knew of love. A love so sweet and kind that once I would have smiled to remember it. It wasn't like the love Lezard claims to feel for me. It wasn't all consuming. Nor were Lucian and I slave to our passions. Ours had been a give and take relationship, neither one trying to overtake the other. This experience with Lezard was more primal, raw and honest in the depths of the desire he felt for me. I dare say if I hadn't had the experience of Lucian, I would have been completely overwhelmed by Lezard in the moments that followed my defeat.

A body can be a traitorous thing, even that of a Goddess. It can be made to feel so many different things, pain and satisfaction just a small example of the range it is capable of. Most betraying is that of desire, a body yearning for something the mind and heart do not want, nor are they willing to accept. Even as I hated Lezard, my body was fighting me, dampening in arousal.

It wasn't an easy won victory for Lezard. He had to earn every drop, his fingers being called into play for all their expertise. But his patience did not fray, the madman persisting in forcing an acceptance through my body. I fought him every step of the way, but I only delayed the inevitable. For all my fight, for all my flailing, he would find himself seated inside me.

I think I screamed them, railing in horror to be violated in so thorough a manner. His smile never wavered. I can't begin to imagine what he thought of my panic, of the revulsion that shook it's way through me. But he wouldn't stop, not until he ingrained himself so thoroughly on every nerve of my body. It was a possession so thorough I would never forget, never escape the memory of it.

And when he was through, I was left shaken, barely able to catch my breath as Lezard hovered over me. Those oddly colored eyes of his were concerned, as if his worry could somehow make up for the wrong he had committed against me. When he went to raise a hand to my cheek, I turned from him. I didn't want his concern, his attempts at feigned tenderness.

Wordlessly he would withdraw. I cared not that I left myself open to further attacks, my back to him as I crouched on the floor. But my senses were full of him, my ears listening to the sounds of his clothing rustling. My nose caught the scent of us both, mixed together in the way that only sex can provide. And my belly was full of the proof of his satisfaction.

I'd shiver anew, in the moment ready to welcome death. What more was left to me? The world I had loved and strove so hard to protect was gone, my einherjar dead, my sisters wiped out. I'd have been glad if he had struck me from behind, would have reveled in Gungnir's tip thrusting through my heart. But no such attack came from him. Instead something heavy and warm settled over my shoulders. I barely reacted at first, not caring for the mockery he made of a gentleman's act.

"Lenneth..." At some point he had stopped using my full name. As though he had earned the right to be so familiar with me. As weak as I was from all that had happened, anger still flared in me.

"Don't!" I lurched to my feet, his cloak sliding off me. I made no move to catch it, not caring that I was naked without it. Somehow, Lezard managed to keep his concerned look, his gaze not straying from my face. But then, he had already seen all I had to offer just moments ago.

"Don't?" He echoed, his voice confused. "What is it you don't want me to do?"

There was a million things I could name, the most offensive already having been done to me. I was shaking before him, hands clenching into fists as I narrowed my eyes into a glare. "Don't speak my name in that familiar manner..." More wanted to come out, my mind crying for him to not look at me, to not touch me. But it was too late for all of that.

Lezard didn't look like he understood why something as simple as saying my name could upset me so. "Lenneth..." At a protest from me, he tried again. "Lenneth...this is foolishness. Why shouldn't I be familiar with you after what we shared?"

"Sharing would imply what happened was mutually wanted!" I snapped. Lezard had no quick retort for me, the man merely shrugging his shoulders. I seethed in response, watching as he stepped towards me. I couldn't control my response, my instinct to flee causing me to back up. I'd nearly trip over the cloak bunched up at my feet, Lezard's hands moving to catch and steady me.

I was torn between screaming and slapping him. I refused to give voice to such a weak response, so my hand moved instead. The slap turned his face to the side, Lezard's glasses askew. And still his temper did not flare, the man merely setting his glasses back to their proper place.

"I understand you're upset." He began. Lezard would let go of me long enough to gather his cloak, and then I would find myself wrapped inside it. I didn't want anything from him, and so I struggled to throw it off. His arms locked around me, keeping me trapped as he held me.

"Upset?" I asked when I was able to think past my rage. "Upset doesn't begin to describe how I feel!"

"It's been a busy day...with a lot to take in." He was all too calm in response to my anger. "I know it will take some getting used to, but in time you will see...This new reality is for the better."

"Better for who?" I demanded. "You?"

"Us." He corrected. Lezard would ignore the scoffing sounds I made, my voice nearly breaking on the bitter laugh that wanted to come out.

"I want no part of your world...or of you!"

"It's a pity...for everything I've done, everything I've become has been all because of you." How well I understood that! This mad man had run wild over time, killing indiscriminately, and doing what the heavens only knew, to become a divine being. He had destroyed my reality, all in order to be with me. And he seemed not to care one iota that it was a desire I did not share with him.

"Lenneth..." Again that familiarity, which earned a scream from me. I became like a wild cat, struggling in his arms. He struggled with me, actually lifting me up off the ground so that my feet dangled by several inches. It didn't calm me, I was infuriated, trying to get my arms free so I could scratch my nails down his face. As angry as I was, I understood a kind of hysteria was upon me. One that made me as irrational as I was violent.

His ether swirled around us, the gold sparkles caught in an endless wind. He'd take me from Dipan, the teleportation depositing us into a meadow. The emerald green of the grass spread all around us, only broken up by the pale colors of the wild flowers that grew here. I was too distraught to even try to guess where we were, nor could I appreciate the beauty that surrounded us.

I was set down on the ground so that my bare feet sank into the wet grass. Lezard would keep me pressed against him, though his attention was divided. The ground began to rumble beneath us, the land starting to split apart mere inches from us. And as it split, whole trees were uprooted, the mighty oaks falling into the ever widening hole. I'd hear the panicked screech of animals, and birds would take to the skies in mass retreat, The ground would continue to open up, and then something would start to raise up through the hole.

It started with spires, golden tip points that slowly revealed how long they truly were. And then would come the marble towers, and white washed stone walls as a building rose up out of the ground. Colored glass made up the windows, the colors gleaming wherever the sunlight struck them.

The building finished it's ascent, the hole neatly sealing closed after it. I knew what I was looking at, the building resembling closely the kinds one would have found once in Asgard. But that was before this new reality had ravished the shining realm, the Gods and Goddess winking out of existence. I didn't have to wonder what had been their fate, I was sure Lezard had killed them all.

"Look, Lenneth!" A grand gesture from him, Lezard beaming with pride over the building he had constructed. I wasn't impressed, what was one building compared to the grand halls and magnificent temples that had once existed in Asgard?

"This will be the first." Lezard continued. I arched an eyebrow, not sure I understood him. "The first of many temples where the mortals will come to worship in our names."

I thought it an absurd idea, my head shaking as I sneered. "No one in their right mind would ever worship you!"

I would be right too. The people of this world weren't quick to lay down their allegiance to Lezard. There was of course reasons behind their reluctance, chief among them Lezard's selfishness. He didn't care about the people. He didn't care about their needs, their prayers, the wars that ravaged the land. The only thing he really cared about was himself, and his obsession with me.

It was an obsession that led him to neglect what few worshippers he had. There were no miracles, no blessings. The only time he ever really acknowledged the humans was to smite them, and he let the undead and the monsters of Niflehiem have free reign to run wild on the mortals. Was it any surprise when rebellions would begin to arise? The humans may not have had any real dealings with the old Gods, but the stories remained. Passed down from generation to generation, the only records that of the humans' memories.

They longed for a change. For the world as it had been under Odin's rule. Of course with time's passage, the stories got distorted, things got embellished. People no longer remembered how tough it had been even under Odin's rule. Of course as rough as it had been for the mortals when Odin reigned, it could not compare to Lezard's neglect. Under his rule, Midgard began a steady decline. Wars were constant, and sinners abound. There was no paradise waiting those who were virtuous, no afterlife to look forward too. The future was as bleak as their present.

My situation seemed no better than theirs. I was prisoner inside one of Lezard's temples, one he jealousy guarded from all others. I was kept hidden, contact with any other beings strictly forbidden. I had no way of knowing what was occurring outside my prison's walls. Lezard wasn't exactly forthcoming with information, the man unconcerned with any threats the mortals tried to launch against him. It made sense, he was power personified, the supreme ruler of the realms. The humans must have seemed nothing more than mere insects to Lezard. As easy to crush as it was to ignore them.

The only thing that could get through his indifference was me. Or more precise, the threat of my escaping him. There wasn't much that could arouse fear in a God, especially one as insane as Lezard proved to be. But the thought of spending eternity without me truly left him shaken. To the point his dreams were disturbed, Lezard often waking up besides me with a scream.

I suppose I didn't help matters. Those first months with him, I was determined to escape. Even before the quests to free me began, I was working on plans of my own. If he didn't watch me constantly, I was finding ways out of the room. Some tries I even made it as far as the temple's main doors before a backlash of power sent me flying back. He didn't mean to hurt me, instead just discourage me from making any further attempts.

And yet I persisted, testing his patience which seemed infinite where I was concerned. I'll never know for sure what finally made him snap. Maybe Lezard was just tired of the struggle. Or maybe I just came too close to escaping for him to tolerate any further attempts. Whatever the case, I found myself back in the bedroom, his ether swirling all around me.

Lezard would appear just second later, a long length of chain trailing from his hands. I was instantly alert, wary as I eyed his approach. His tone would be one of regret, his eyes hinting at his disappointment. I can remember the words he spoke to me then.

"I didn't want to resort to this." The chain was dropped to lay half on, half off the bed. I didn't take my eyes off of Lezard, shivering though his ether was warm. "But Lenneth, you've left me no choice." He almost sounded anguished then, his words coming out a shout that seemed to echo in the room.

I was haughty, my gaze narrowed into a glare. "Choices? You speak to me on choices? When you have taken them all from me?" He didn't try to deny it. How could he, when nearly everything I did, everything I wore, everything I took into my body was on his design. Only my thoughts were my own, Lezard unable to control the words that came out of my mouth.

I think I would have screamed if he tried to justify what he was about to do to me. It wasn't love that moved him to push me down to the bed. It was sheer desperation. That same desperation would have his ether holding me down, leaving me to feel as though all the air was being sucked out of me as I struggled against it's oppressing feel. Yet for all my struggles, I didn't miss the cold feel of metal clicking around my ankle. Lezard had had no hesitation in forcing the chain on me, it's metal enchanted to subdue my powers.

The ether slowly began to lift up off me. My breath returned as I lurched upright. My leg lifted, I was scrabbling my fingers over the manacle, searching for the catch to release it. There was none, the metal smooth and seamless. Lezard stayed on his knees before me, watching me with the most forlorn of looks. I might almost believe he really didn't want to go this far, if not for the fact I remembered each and everything he had done in order to destroy my world and replace it with the one he preferred.

"Lenneth..." I was ignoring him, trying to shove my fingers beneath the metal. This chain was worse than being locked in this room, for now the last of my freedoms had been taken from me. "Lenneth my love..." I managed a scoffing sound, breaking a nail on the manacle. He tsked, and touched my hands, guiding them away from the metal.

"My love...it won't be so bad..." He whispered into my hands, pressing kisses on their backs. He wasn't looking at me when he said that, even Lezard did not truly believe it.

"Let me go." My voice was terse, I would not beg.

"Never." His answer made me sag in place, defeat flooding through me. Never is a long time when one has all of eternity to spend. What is worse? To spend an eternity alone, or to suffer forced companionship for all of time? I did not know, but I had no doubt I would one day get the answer to the question I posed.

A bit...iffy on the ending stuff...kinda feel I should have tried to extend the chapter...but I was having trouble making it flow for me...

To Be Continued...

Michelle

Atropos, thank you. I'm happy if I got that kind of vibe going for this story, and that the characters seem in character. It's been hard work, sometimes spending weeks on a single chapter. Unfortunately now I'm at the hard part of moving the story forward to get to that ending scene I have in my head. *Cries from frustration.*

Alpha Huntress, whoo hoo! Love how excited you get. Enjoyed the reviews. :D Heh...your confusion at first was probably how the people of Midgard felt when all that messed up timeline and memories started happening! XD And eerie! I like that word, so glad if there was an eerie feel to the realities fighting each other for dominance. Glad you didn't have to endure a cliffhanger for too long!

So you have a Lezard radar? XD It must have dinged like crazy during chapter three! And yes, the safest bet would have been to destroy Lezard the first chance she got, even if she had to time travel to do it. He's just that dangerous. What other mortal could become God after all! And you plot bunnied me with the chase her over the timelines idea! XD Sorry about the cliffhanger...guess I'm the Queen of them. ^^;;


	5. Chapter 5

The first days were the hardest. My world had been destroyed, it's reality torn apart until nothing existed of it save for the memories I had of it. The very face of the nine realms had been changed, the land and it's people unrecognizable to me now. The places and people that had led to building up my character, leading me into becoming the person that I am? Gone. I was a stranger in this new world. An outside element that could only wish that things had turned out differently.

But wishing could not change what had happened. Only through concrete action could I make a difference. And yet I felt powerless, the time machine destroyed. I was Lezard's prisoner, my body his to violate. He would revisit that particular indignation upon me countless times, as though the act of ravishing me could somehow force an acceptance between us.

I learned to dread his approach, to feel the first flickers of fear whenever he smiled at me with a certain twinkle in his eyes. It was both pleasure and torture Lezard offered me, a sweet torment of my body and mind as he worked me over. The very act was cruel in nature, though his actions were performed with the intent to arouse not distress me. Lezard could not understand that HE was the source of my distress, that every time he took position between my legs, something in me died a little further.

It would take some time for me to wither so completely. My anger and revulsion would be the last to go. I would cling stubborn to them, using them as both weapon and shield against him. But they were ineffectual tools, Lezard unaffected by the worse of what I attempted to do. The list stretches on, from name calling to outright attacks. How many times had I reddened his cheek? Or broken his nose? But those were minor inconveniences, easily soothed by his divine powers. He was unflappable in response to my outbursts, where I hurt from everything he had done. From everything he continued to do.

His crimes would continue, the nine realms suffering. But not from any malignant purpose of Lezard's. He simply didn't care, to taken with me to want to oversee creation. He was truly a selfish being, having become a God with the sole intent of possessing me. His lusts had driven him, and continue to drive him even to this day. I've since grown used to how he is, but many in the nine decaying realms have not.

I couldn't yet know of the dissension and dissatisfaction spreading among the people. It would start in spurts, furtive whispers in meetings. Eventually it would snowball out of control, the people choosing to rebel against their God. But the rebellion was not immediate, it would take decades maybe even centuries before an active assault was launched against Lezard.

I would remain by his side, existing in a state between life and death. I lived and breathed, but without purpose. At least not a purpose I wanted to acknowledge, as though ignoring what was happening could somehow deny my role as Lezard's toy. That was what I was, little more than a doll for him to use and admire. Lezard would impose upon me hourly his wants and desires, his expectations of me. That included the way I dressed, the frilliest of gowns, and immodest dresses being put on me. He loved to cover me in expensive fabrics, silks and satins being the only things to touch my skin. Several kingdom's worth of jewels laid at my feet, Lezard often telling me how their brilliance paled in comparison to my beauty.

I began to think of my beauty as a curse. Where once I was indifferent to my looks, I began to openly hate them. I blamed them for my predicament, but more than that, I found the fault in them for what had happened to my world and this one. Something had to have attracted Lezard to me, and I didn't for one-second believe he had first come to desire the woman I was. I thought his love superficial, his eye drawn to my ethereal beauty.

I wanted to make him stop wanting me. I wanted Lezard done with me, for the God to toss me aside. I didn't care if I would be just another casualty, did not care that the memories of the other world would be lost with my death.

Gods cannot die from their own hands, no matter how much self loathing they are filled with. But they can be made to suffer. I couldn't kill myself, my divine powers would protect me from the worse of what I attempted to do. I had no knife, but there were mirrors in my room. In a rare moment apart from Lezard, I began smashing them, not caring as the fractured glass sliced up my hands.

I would use my power to stop my body from healing those cuts. Nor would I be satisfied with just my hands being damaged. I'd use a jagged piece of glass, and slice off my hair. It wasn't enough, I could see in the pieces of the mirror that I was still too beautiful. I would have to do worse. And I did. I did slow, methodical cuts across my cheeks, slashing open my soft skin. Blood would drip down onto my breasts, staining my dress.

I would do many cuts, the lines intersecting one another. I thought they would make me ugly, make Lezard react in revulsion. How foolish I was. He was a God, the creator. It was no harder for him to heal the damage that I had done, than for him to blink his eyes. The only victory I had was a momentary one, Lezard reacting in outlandish horror. He couldn't believe what I had done, his hands shaking as he gripped me by my arms.

I was already on my way to being defeated. I didn't even think to use the glass on his throat. I merely dropped it when he grabbed me, my eyes defiant as he looked over each cut on my face. They were still bleeding when he ran trembling fingers over them, his touch warm with ether. Too late did I cry out, my wounds healing with every touch.

He'd even restore my hair to it's previous glory. Lezard would spend hours brushing it, as though trying to confirm it's existence. We did not talk much that night. I merely sat rigid before him, enduring his hands in my hair. The brushing did not calm me, if anything my agitation only grew. The next morning would come, and the mirrors would be removed from my prison. All in an attempt to protect me, a fail-safe to ensure I did not repeat my attempts at self mutilation.

Sometimes I think I went down that path of self loathing because there was nothing left to me. I could only grieve for so long. It was easier to forget those that had mattered to me, and turn instead to laying blame on my shoulders. It was easy to blame myself. After all, who else could have hoped to rival Lezard in a fight? I had failed, and I had been the motivation for his many, many crimes.

There wasn't much to my days when apart from Lezard. He didn't leave me often enough for my liking, but sometimes he disappeared for hours at a time. I often think it was his attempt at a kindness. An attempt to give us both a break from his lusts. When with me, he touched me often. Even when he desire had been expended for the moment, he would continue to tease me. He truly could not get enough of me, his hands constant on my body.

Even then I was learning to tolerate if not accept what he was doing to me. Disgust could only sustain me for so long. This was happening, and would continue to happen for an eternity it seemed. My mind in an attempt to cope began conditioning me to respond favorably to him. It would be the start to a long journey to my ultimate acceptance of Lezard in my bed.

The adjustment period continued. The first weeks and months, I was so angry I couldn't even look at Lezard without wanting to kill him. I often acted on those impulses, lunging at him, my hands attempting to close around his throat. But I was as ineffectual as a rag doll, my attacks easily pushed aside. He was never violent in deflecting my attempts on his life, though Lezard reacted with dismayed confusion. He often spoke of how he didn't understand where this hatred came from, why I was so against being his. More than that, he spoke at great length about his undying love for me, the admiration plain in his eyes.

I could only speak of hate, denouncing him. I would shout and snarl, hurl insult and accusation and ultimately scream in helpless rage as he pinned me down. He had to force me to the bed each and every time. Even as I cursed him, he was loving. Or as loving as he believed himself to be. As loving as one could be when committing a crime against another.

We embodied hate and love so completely, two split sides of the same coin. It would take time for the worst of my anger to simmer. Time for my temper to cool to where I could look at him without murderous impulse in my heart. I'm sure he was delighted when the attacks stopped. Just as he reveled in my interest when I began to speak to him at length about things other than what a monster I found him to be.

But I didn't want the intimacy that came with conversation. The intimacy that was born of getting to know my captor better. I was at cross purposes, wanting to find a chink in his defense. If he had suspicions about my sudden interest, he never showed them. Not even when I questioned Lezard at length with just how he had changed destiny, going from mortal to God supreme.

He enjoyed telling me of his exploits. Lezard would take on a boasting tone, smug satisfaction oozing off his every pore. My amazement was not feigned, he had earned that much in his accomplishments. I paid careful attention to every word, listening even as he touched and caressed me in the midst of his tales.

One might think Lezard was being careless in divulging such details to me. He wasn't. He just knew with the time machine destroyed, there was no way for me to go and right the wrongs of the past. And yet to keep from going insane, I harbored the delusions that somehow I could rebuild the time machine. But a dozen requirements were needed, the most problematic of all escaping Lezard long enough to rebuild a time machine I didn't understand how to work.

The first times I tried to escape, I was aimless. I just wanted gone from here, having no other purpose than to be free of Lezard and his twisted affections. Sometimes I think my escape attempts was just an effort to pass the time for there was no other entertainments to be found. None that could hold my interest at least.

I never made it that far. I never even got out of the building. Lezard always found me. I couldn't muster enough dignity to not go kicking and screaming back to my room. He would chastise me as though I was a petulant child. Maybe I was acting that way, not far from a temper tantrum. But I was so weary. Tired of being used and abused. I would continue my attempts at escape, right up until he chained me.

I had thought all my hopes had died long ago. I had thought I had known what true Hel was like. But that chain took away the last of my freedoms, binding me thoroughly to this room. My dreams of escaping were just that, my powers suppressed by the divine properties of the chain. Lezard took no joy in what he had done, but never did he consider removing the chain from my ankle. He was that determined to hold onto me, even if it meant stifling my spirit.

I was suffocating, little by little. Denied the things I needed in order to be me. I had not seen the sun in decades, my skin turning pale in response. I missed the sky, seeing it change with the sun and the moon. Missed the twinkling of the stars. But more then that, I missed soaring through it, my wings spread for maximum speed. The only wind I ever experience now is the wind Lezard calls upon in his rage. The wind he uses to batter those unwanted pests who dare intrude on us.

I no longer knew the warmth of anyone but Lezard. His was a cold flame, chilling me to the bone. I needed the connection of more than one person, needed the simple things of a smile without expectations. I missed the voices of the people, hearing their prayers and hopes. I was isolated from everything and everyone, my only contact with the outside world a man who would not tell me of it.

I was alone the first time I heard a voice that was not Lezard's. I thought I had imagined it, and was quick to dismiss it as nothing more than a lonely woman's mind playing tricks on her. But the voice would sound again, a man who had a gruff basset tone. It was nowhere as pleasing as Lezard's own voice, but to me it was a welcome difference.

That man was shouting, not a hint of fear in his voice as he demanded God to appear. I couldn't help but be alarmed, thinking him a fool. No one made demands of Lezard. Not without suffering great consequence. But here there existed a being who was bold, demanding the God appear before him to pay for his crimes of neglect against the realms.

I couldn't even begin to fathom what was happening. Was I dreaming? There couldn't really be a revolt going on inside this temple, could there? But other voices were rising to bolster the first, and I could sense the righteous thirst within the group.

In a daze, I drifted over to the door of my prison. The chain that tethered me to the bed was such a length that I had free range about the bedroom. It did not impede me as I went to the door, though it frustratingly came up short whenever I tried to cross it's threshold.

The voices would continue, their anger mounting as they shouted. I heard the smashing of something delicate, the crowd turning on the building's furnishings. I couldn't see them from the doorway, only their voices were known to me. It wasn't enough, I was greedy for exposure, wanting to see them, to speak with them. I began to shout back, but my voice was lost to the screams.

The pain turned their screams into fear. I knew then Lezard had deigned to put in an appearance. He would effortlessly cut down every last person who had ventured into the temple, sometimes drawing out their suffering with a slow, cruel kill. I could hear the panicking, the stampede as dozens of people tried to flee for their lives. Some spilled into the corridor that led to my prison, and even though they were terrified, I savored the sight of those mortals.

The mortals didn't know what to make of the sight of me. Of the sight of a chained and powerless Goddess who was ready to weep tears at the sight of a new face. I knew they were already dead though, the group living on borrowed time as Lezard played with other members of their rebellion. These mortals weren't ready to accept it though, and one rushed towards me, sword in hand.

I honestly thought he meant to kill me in that moment. I wouldn't know then that they were hopeful they could unleash a God that could rival Lezard in power. I foolishly backed up, seeing too late the intent to sever not my head, but my chain. It cost us all seconds of valuable time, Lezard appearing to strike down the mortals. I could only stare, helpless and horrified as Lezard brutally and sadistically killed those people. He was always aware of me, but Lezard had gone to a different place in his head, enraged in a way I could never make him.

It frightened me, and I quickly shut the door. But it wouldn't keep Lezard out. He would come to me, the ether energy he had discharged heavy on his skin. Even choking on the scent of divine power, it couldn't hide the fainter scent of the blood and death he had reveled in. He had showered, his clothes immaculate. And yet all I could remember was the sight of him, covered in blood, with an angry snarl on his face.

When he advanced on me, I was huddled against a wall. I hadn't even realized what I had done, but my hands were over my ears. I had been trying to block out the sounds of killing, shaking violently with my eyes leaking tears. It had been a long time since I fought him so vigorously, but when he attempted to draw me against him for a kiss, I reacted like a hellion.

My nails scratched down his face, dislodging his glasses. They'd actually crunch under foot as we struggled, Lezard overpowering me yet again. I would be pushed down onto the bed, forced to endure his weight on top of me. For a moment that was too brief he just stared at me, as though trying to fathom the reason behind my upset.

"How could you?" I asked with a shaky expel of breath. Understanding dawned in his eyes, or as close as he could come to it.

"They would have taken you away from me." That was his explanation. That was Lezard's justification for the slaughter he had just committed. It didn't reassure me, and I screamed into his mouth when he kissed me. I'd taste blood, having bit him. Something I hadn't done in a long time. With his lip still bleeding, he'd work on kissing my cheeks, attempting to lick away my ever flowing tears. They would not stop, lasting the entire duration of his twisted expression of love and need.

He needed me. Needed the reassurance of my body. Through me he would calm himself, soothed into believing all was as it should be. I wasn't yet used to this arrangement, but it would become a familiar ritual, Lezard a mix of desperation and desire whenever anyone came close to rescuing me. What's worse, Lezard would delude himself into believing he was protecting me. That it was us against the world.

But I wasn't ready to align myself with him. I wasn't ready to turn my back on the realms, even if this world, this reality wasn't mine to begin with. I wanted to believe in the people. To find hope that they would offer me the freedom Lezard had stolen. For a time I would, my hope restored. And all because I believed in the mortals. In the concept of good triumphing over evil. But as the months turned into years, the decades piling into centuries, I began to doubt even that. Eternity is a long time to live without hope and dreams, is it any wonder I began to change? To cope with the reality of my situation by becoming someone different from the Goddess I had been born as? Lezard had patience in abundance, willing to wait me out as I struggle to keep from submitting so completely.

To Be Continued...

Michelle

Kittybear, thank you! I hope you continue to find the story awesome!

Alpha Huntress, thanks dear. I can't remember what I felt when I wrote her speaking about her love with Lucian. But draining is a good word to use! I agree with you about Lucian loving Platina not Lenneth. Glad you didn't gouge your eyes out, or abandon the fic at the loving mentions of Lucian. And thank you regarding the line you found so powerful! I hope you find give equally a powerful chapter. It's one I'm extra proud of! And sadly you're right...Lezard would never willingly let her go. He doesn't believe in that stuff about if you love something, set it free to see if it comes back to you. Unfortunately for Lenneth...!


	6. Chapter 6

Time stretches out endless before me, my days having little to differentiate one from the next. I live, breathe, and exist solely for Lezard. Life has no other meaning for me now. Once my purpose had been to escape, to right the many wrongs he had committed. But my purpose has changed, distorted over the centuries spent with him. I went from wanting to kill Lezard to actually welcoming him eagerly into my bed.

Of course this change in me wasn't instantaneous. Lezard had truly needed every minute of eternity to win me over so completely. I would continue to fight, against him, against what was happening for a millennia it seemed. But even as I fought, a tiredness was filling me. I was growing weary of the endless struggle, the fights for dominance between us. Fights I lost again and again, Lezard always, always overpowering me.

Was it the fact that I couldn't win, that began my descent into a madness of my very own? I didn't think myself so weak willed, but I cannot change the facts that ultimately I capitulated to Lezard's demands. He already had my body, must my mind and heart follow? But even as I ask that, I know the answer. Lezard would never be satisfied with anything less than a complete devotion on my part to him.

I cannot say when I first began to weaken so completely. Was it the first time I let him bring me to his bed without a struggle on my part? Or was it the first time I moaned his name in the midst of a passionate moment? But I was tired, and my struggles availed me nothing. No matter how like a wild cat I acted, he would still have me. No matter how I tried to hold back my voice, to deny the arousal Lezard caused in me, the pleasured feelings still came.

My body was betraying me, finding pleasure in his attentions. Even as I hated myself, I could not deny that Lezard could bring me to climax in a way Lucian had never. Even as I rode the high of those climaxes, something in me wept. Sometimes I would tell myself my body was latching onto the only pleasure left to me. There was nothing else for me, trapped forever in that room.

I began to WANT the time spent with Lezard. I began to actively miss him when he left me alone. I'd find myself endlessly pacing the floor of the bedroom, eyes constantly seeking out the door in the hopes that Lezard would appear in it's threshold. The first time I felt something like excited joy fill my heart when he finally appeared. it frightened me. I had been in the midst of rushing towards him, and when I had realized what I was doing, I froze on the spot.

I can remember how Lezard looked that day. The look of surprise that instantly changed to pleasure once he recovered from the shock of my approach. I am still grateful he had the sense not to tease me for what I had almost done. And all because it was mortifying enough to know he knew how close I was to submitting.

In direct contradiction to the urgings of my heart, I fought him that day. My struggles had renewed, but it wasn't Lezard who was my true opponent. It was myself, my mind and heart at odds in regard to my feelings for Lezard. Did he know of my internal struggle? Maybe not at first. But it was difficult to hide it, when with one touch Lezard could make me melt so completely.

Even worse, I began to want to touch him. To want to learn the texture of his skin, to run fingers through his hair, and savor the taste of him. I'd resist those desires, denying myself those damning impulses. But sometimes my hands would linger when I attempted to push him away, stealing that desired touch in the only way I could.

I'd continue to hate him. And myself. And all because I knew something had changed within me. I saw it as a betrayal. Of myself, and of my people. How could I come to want the monster that had destroyed my world? And not only my world, but this new reality as well? And yet the heart wants what it wants, even if it inspires self hatred. And I did hate myself.

Yet as much as I hated, there was a part of me that was starting to revel in my time spent with Lezard. My heart was beginning to thrill every time he looked at me, anticipation filling me at his approach. I no longer so thoroughly dreaded his use of me, my soul hungering for the connection that came when we joined our bodies together. There was now solace in the act, a soothing balm that helped ease away my pain and loneliness. It mattered little that he was the cause of what troubled me, Lezard had become my cure.

It was easy to forget my hatred in those moments. When he kissed and touched me, his hands everywhere, urging me to give in. The surrender came easily then, but it was after, in the quiet moments when he slept that the loathing would return to me. It would creep into my consciousness, slow moving tendrils that sought a firm grip on my thoughts. I'd think terrible, accusing things as I gazed at him. I'd wonder how I could look so tenderly upon him, how I could linger my gaze upon his sleeping face and not be moved to murder him in his sleep. It mattered not that I would fail in the act. What mattered was that I had stopped making the attempt to harm him.

But I could no longer bring myself to actively hurt him. I had been conditioned too thoroughly into wanting him, wanting the pleasure he gave me. His was a drugging influence, a poison that had thoroughly infested my mind and heart. Often I was sick from wanting him, ready to despair at the way things had turned out. I was falling, my trip into madness a long, spiraling descent. What would happen to me when I hit rock bottom?

I feared the finding out. And yet I couldn't stop the feelings that were becoming a part of my daily life. Elation, desire, hatred, worry. I ran the gamut from one side of the spectrum to the other, with Lezard stirring them all. My days went from the sadness of being apart from him, to the excitement of his arrival. Desire would win out over all other feelings, spiraling me higher and higher until my climaxes brought me crashing down into self hatred. I couldn't stop wanting him, anymore than I could stop hating myself for the desire.

I had become so weak. I no longer pushed him away. Not with my hands, and not with my heart. No amount of pretending could hide what was happening, at least to me. I was starting to accept him, even if all I did was lie there and let him have his way. I couldn't deny the feelings of my heart, the thoughts that went racing through my mind whenever Lezard looked at me, smiled at me, touched me.

The worst moments were perhaps the quiet time just after we had coupled together. Lezard would pull me close, not content to relinquish his hold of me even in sleep. Once I would have grumbled, would have felt and made known my displeasure. But now such an act only served to further endear him to me, my body soft and pliant against his as I rested against Lezard.

But there was no rest for my mind. I would lay there, my head on his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart. My thoughts would turn furious, a voice hurling accusations and insults at me. I'd inwardly cringe, knowing each word as true even as I looked up at Lezard's sleeping face. He always looked so trusting when asleep, a fact that had once infuriated me for it spoke volumes of how little he thought of my threat.

But now I couldn't muster up the energy to act against him. I could no longer attempt to choke the life out of him, anymore than I could stand to break his fingers. Even as that voice hissed at me, calling me awful names, I could only admire him. I'd use those moments when he was asleep to look my fill of him, openly staring in a way I would never do when he was awake. And all because I couldn't bear the smug triumph that would have filled Lezard in response to my intent study of him.

Sometimes I think I stared long enough to be able to count every individual strand of his hair. Longing would fill me, as I wondered how it would feel to touch those strands. To run my fingers through in a touch meant to please not harm him. It wasn't just his hair I lingered on, I wanted to know how it would feel to kiss him back. To feel that sensual mouth of his soften and yield to my exploration.

Most of all I wanted to touch him in return. To caress my hands over every inch of Lezard. Sometimes that urge was strong enough to keep that angry inner voice of mine at bay. But more often than not, the soft, yearning impulses only brought it raging harder. It didn't want me to feel anything for Lezard except hate and disgust. It didn't want me to give him gentle touches, it wanted me to tear chunks out of his flesh. But I was long past the point of hurting him, of even making the attempts. At some point I had recognized the futility, knowing his pain would be a momentary thing at best.

Once I would have reveled in that pain, taking it as minor victory over Lezard. But those so called victories were hollow at best, and never kept him from me for long. Now I had come to the point I didn't want to do anything that might turn him from me. I never feared his loss of interest, he was too taken with me for there to be a chance of Lezard ever leaving me. But I no longer wanted to delay the inevitable, the joining of our bodies, the intimacy we shared in between moments of sex.

I truly was becoming desperate for him. Not just for the pleasure of his body, but the communion we shared each time we talked. It no longer bothered me that he touched me constantly, regardless of whether we were about to make love or not. I needed his touch, was starved for even the simplest of things, like holding hands. I could no longer remember what it was like to be touched by anyone else, and I felt a lonely ache in me whenever his hands stopped touching me, even for a moment.

It was a constant barrage of feelings. Both good and bad. I was sick with need for Lezard, and warring with myself often. I began to think of myself as separate from the voice who snarled so angrily in my head. I began to think the voice was the only remnant that lingered of the previous Lenneth. And soon that voice would begin to speak less and less to me, as though it was losing it's strength. Dying. I should have mourned losing that last part of me, but truthfully I was just glad for the reprieve from it's insults.

With or without the voice, I would continue to exist in perpetual need, wanting to touch Lezard but not daring. It felt like something would truly be broken inside me if I gave in to that urge, as if the last of my restraints towards him was shattered. And yet the need to touch him was nearly violent in it's intensity. I was staying up more and more, to just watch over him. Admiring him a way I could not when he was awake.

One day, I simply stopped resisting. It was only for a moment. His arms were around me, clutching me close against him as he slept. His hair was mussed, long bangs strewn haphazardly across his brow. With a tenderness that surprised me, I moved trembling fingers against those strands. It was the touch I had been longing for, and even as I reveled in it, it was poisoning me. He did not wake at my touch, or the gasp that followed. Not until I began struggling to get free of his arms. I wanted away from him. I wanted to sear my hand in fire's flame, to burn away the memory of that stolen touch. I wanted to do more than just burn, I wanted to go wild, to destroy the prison that had made me so susceptible to desiring Lezard.

He was disoriented, not understanding the panic on my face. I'd find myself pressed into the bed, Lezard holding me down as he tried to figure out what had triggered my upset. I was both angry and despairing, and when he began speaking to me in soothing tones, I broke down completely. I began to openly sob, shuddering with the effort to breathe. In that moment I was inconsolable, shrieking when Lezard tried to kiss my tears away.

I had become someone unrecognizable. I was shattering, breaking apart until the only Lenneth left was the woman Lezard wanted me to be. I couldn't stop the change, even my mind was softening towards him. I would find myself thinking about him at all times, whether he was with me or apart. This quiet introspection had me questioning my sanity. I was wondering just what was wrong with me.

I was alone when the answer hit me. Somehow, impossibly so, I had come to have feelings for Lezard. Feelings that went beyond hate and anger. I needed him, wanted him. I began to laugh, a great fit of hysterical giggles as I realized it was some form of sick dependency that had made me start to love him. With no one else to turn to, no other soul to speak to and take comfort from, Lezard had become my everything. Forget the sun and the moon, the turning of the world. Lezard was my reason for existing, the only thing left to me that could give me any measure of happiness.

Of course I never told him what I had come to realize. At least not with any spoken words. But sometimes, actions speak louder than the voice. I began to actively participate in our lovemaking, no longer needing to be held down and forced. That pleased Lezard immensely, his excitement rocketing up to new heights. If anything he craves me even more, as though this new willingness of mine fed his addiction for me.

We are both so dependent on each other, clinging, needful beings. Neither one of us wants to share the other with the world, and those that come to this temple are annoyances at best. They take him away from me. I hate them for every stolen moment, waiting impatiently for Lezard to finish with them so that he can return to my arms. A part of me recognizes that this is insane, but that voice is quickly dying. I don't care if the world ends, if Yggsdrasil withers. Just never let me leave this room, leave him.

How long have I been with him now? I cannot say. I stopped counting the centuries years ago. But the people still come, often they are the only break in a routine that should be boring from it's monotony. They come with their hopes and fears, weapons sharp for the killing they will not make. They truly believe if they try hard and often enough, that one of them will be successful. That they will end the reign of the God who so cruelly neglects their world. They have not yet accepted the truth, might never

realize that nothing will change. Lezard will always be in charge, and no matter how hard they hope and dream, a miracle is not coming.

It is all right. There is still time. It is time that leads to submission, time that will force them to accept the reality of their situation. It is after all, that same time that made me accept mine. I no longer wonder what is outside my room, no longer yearn for the things I cannot have. Lezard is all I need, all I want. Even if I never tell him the words, his return to this room quickens my pulse with excitement.

Just as my face brightens now, the door creaking open slowly. I turn to face it, struggling to maintain composure of my face. As if that can somehow keep my expression from betraying just how happy I am to see him.

It is a shock when the men enter my room. Lezard is not among them. My eyes flit nervously from face to face, not understanding how they got so deep into the temple. Where is Lezard? Why has he not come to kill them? Why has he allowed them to get so close to me? I do not understand, and I am sure my confusion is showing.

It would be pointless to try and run. The chain tethers me to this room, and won't extend past the door. So I hold myself still, hands fisting on my skirts as I watch the men approach and surround me. They carry weapons with them, and I wonder briefly if the metal has been enchanted to kill a God. Even if they have not, I would make poor sport, the chain suppressing me of all my powers.

But they have not come to kill me. I understand that in the instant the axe breaks apart my chain. And with that severing, power flows into me, staggering me. Someone puts out a hand to steady me. Another gasps, admonishing the first for his daring. They know better than to touch a deity uninvited, the men holding their weapons and watching as a glow fills me. The glow of power, warming me as I struggle to breathe from the force of it's return.

Voices rise up in my head, millions of them. It is the voices of the realms, the prayers of the people. They are desperate for a miracle, hoping for change. A change Lezard won't give them. A change only I can bring them. The world is truly falling apart from Lezard's neglect, I should feel horrified by what I am discovering. But I don't. I merely feel numb, as though this new wound can't amount to the pain of past hurts.

My glow lessens, I'm gaining control over the power surging within me. I straighten and lock eyes with one of the warriors. It is his cue to drop to his knees. The other follow. They don't dare look directly at me, knowing I could strike them down with just a thought. I'm still wondering where Lezard is, when one lifts up his sword to me, the flat of his blade resting on his hands.

I stare at the sword a moment before reaching for it. It is an ancient and weathered blade, inscripted with runes along it's hilt. It is an alien weapon, but one that is not wholly unfamiliar to me. If I concentrate, all my past skill will return to me, allowing me to use it. My fingers tighten around it's hilt, confidence blasting through me as the warriors murmur some kind of prayer.

I am no longer looking at anything but the sword, seeing myself reflected on it's polished blade. I know what I must do, and it is not a pretty smile I wear. Inside me, the old Lenneth rears long enough to scream a protest. But I won't heed her screams, she has no power over me any longer. My arm moves, I hear the sickening squelch of flesh being stabbed. An arc of blood sprays towards me, and then my vision goes red. The screams are a constant melody, but I don't dance. I am efficient but not cruel, doing what must be needed. It is a love letter to him I carve out, each body bathing me with blood. I think a hysterical giggle might have escaped me, but I can't stop. I won't. And all because I can't live without him.

To Be Concluded...

Originally I ended the story at chapter six. But I hated how the ending scene of six read...thought it rather sucked. It was originally supposed to be seven chapters, but then I felt like I couldn't extend it past six. But then the more I thought on how the original six read, the more I hated it. And then someone asked me to do a Lezard POV which I wasn't sure I would do. I remember saying it would be creepy and very smug sounding a point of view. But the more I thought about it, the most I was dissatisfied with my original attempt at six. So I decided to try and salvage some of six, and mix old with new and completely revamp the ending scene. Here's hoping I don't messed up seven now...X_X

As of this posting, I have maybe half of seven done. I still struggle over whether to just let six be the ending chapter. But for now I am going for the attempt to write a seven that is satisfactory for me.

Michelle

Kittybear, thanks again! I'm trying to! One more chapter to go though...X_X 

Alpha Huntress, aw...Lenneth's got you down? At least you don't hate my writing. Phew! But don't let this downer of a fic keep you from reviewing sooner! That is a very good point about how each one was the outside element in the other's world. Aw...it's hard to respond to your review, since I know you like to read my replies before the actual fic. And this time any replies I might make will spoil six for you. So I guess all I can do is say thank you for sticking with the story, even if it makes you tear up again. I hadn't thought it shared much with Lezard's Triumph, but yeah...it does feel like Dark Drabble. Maybe an improved one? Or maybe not, since I know how much you enjoyed that one.


	7. Chapter 7

It never fails to amuse, the power I now wield. The power I hold to crush all who dare oppose me. It is a power I don't even have to think about. It comes out as naturally as any other function of my body. When I need it, it rolls off me in waves, a swing of my arm sending violent energy crashing into things. It does so now, the energy causing several armed warriors to fly back into the walls of my temple. Such is the force of their impact that the marble splinters, and their bones shatter. They will not be getting up again, their own bones piercing their internal organs.

And yet, that doesn't put an end to the battle raging all around me. I've barely begun to make a dent in the numbers that swarm my temple now. This is the largest grouping of warriors I've seen in decades. And the most varied, the warriors here a mix of people representing several of the remaining realms. They are a nuisance at best, an annoyance that takes me away from my one joy in life. Lenneth.

But I do not linger on thoughts of her, not at the moment. I neither want nor welcome the soothing effect memories of her have on me. And all because I want the rage to fester in me. My anger is an ugly, dangerous thing. It brings me to new heights of creativity in the way I deal with these miscreants who dare set foot on these hallowed grounds. None will survive, none will want to after I am done.

And yet they will still keep coming, keep trying to put an end to me. The fools don't ever learn, even as I make mountains out of the corpses of these so called heroes. There's been enough blood to flood oceans, enough dead to outnumber the living now. How many widows have wept, how many familles have grieved? There would be no need for any of it, if they would just leave me and my Goddess alone.

Is it such an outlandish thing, to want to spend eternity alone with her? We could all get along so much better if these pathetic wretches would do as I do. I've made a habit out of staying out of their affairs, at leaving them to govern themselves. I've freed them from the Gods' rules, and yet they hunger for that kind of strict guidance. They actually miss Odin's tyranny, as if a despot's rule is better than the freedom to make one's own choices.

It just furthers my anger. I find them weak, and hardly deserving of the life they have been given. If they want to die so badly, then let them come. I will easily put an end to them and their feeble hopes. Even if a hundred, no a thousand throw themselves at me, I will prevail. I'll barely work up a sweat, Gungnir moving effortlessly in my control. Even now the divine lance swings through the air, lopping off a warrior's head. I don't turn to track it's fall, but I hear the squish as some unthinking clod steps on it.

They are mobbing me, hoping their numbers are enough that someone will somehow get in a disabling blow. Their weapons can't all be enchanted metal, there simply isn't enough of it. And there is less each time their attacks fail. I've made a habit of melting down all the weapons used against me. Someday soon there won't exist even a single blade with the power to kill a God.

Maybe then these tiresome attacks will stop. I look forward to that eventuality, knowing these attacks only steal away from my time with Lenneth. Even now I should

be with her, talking with her, holding her, loving her. I am infuriated that even a single second is wasted away from her. It shows in the brutal way I use my divine powers, causing the bones of a warrior to break inside him, snap open through his skin. It is a gruesome way to die, and even more horrific to look at, the man falling to the floor with a thud.

People leap over him, trying not to cower in fear. They've come expecting the worst, expecting that many if not all will die. They charge me in groups, my energy cascading into them. Sometimes they hit walls, other times they are brought to the floor, held there to be trampled under the feet of their allies. Gungnir is on constant move, my arm never tiring from it's use.

It is BORING. They are not even a challenge. Not the mortals of Midgard, the elves of Alfheim, or the giants of Jotunheim. They are just smears of blood, bodies littering the floors. It will take longer to clean my temple of their filth than to kill them. The thought makes me laugh, even though it's true. I can see how shaken they are to hear the sounds of my amusement. They do not understand why I laugh, they must think me insane. But it is them who is crazy, repeating an act that will never have a different outcome. Must I kill every last living being in all of Creation before they will leave me and Lenneth alone to our paradise?

Lenneth! An alarm triggers in my head, one of the sensors I have set up in the many corridors of my temple, going off. Just as sudden as the first, another alerts me to the fact there is movement in the temple. A small group of men running through the halls, searching. I know instantly just who they are looking for. My anger intensifies, raging out of control. These fools I am fighting? Nothing more than a diversion. I realize that now, and am positive that none of their weapons are powerful enough to hurt me, let alone kill me.

I no longer toy with these people. I am enraged, killing as fast as I can, moving towards them rather than waiting them out. I have no time for them to work up the nerve to approach me, delivering death to all as I hunt them down. And all the while, worry eats at me. Worry for Lenneth. A part of me is reassured by the knowledge they won't kill her. Never that! They want to free her, to restore Lenneth to her powers. That is something I cannot allow. Not now when she was finally starting to come around, to warm up to me.

It's taken YEARS for us to get to this point. Whole centuries of time spent trying to teach Lenneth to love me back. Any freedoms these fools could offer her, would only be a setback, a return to the Lenneth of old. And I do not want that! Not when she has been so accepting of me as of late. There has been a softening within her, an easing of past resentments. She no longer fights me when I take her to bed, no longer forces me to hold her down. All I can think of in this moment is of the progress that will be lost, the setbacks these overly ambitious mortals will cause me.

It feels like a blinking of the eye, so quickly do I kill my attackers. I am surrounded by their bodies, their blood not only on the floor and walls, but all over me. Their bodies lay crumpled, arms and legs at odd angles that can only be achieved by the breaking of bone. Some have been completely severed, and others had their own weapons turned on them.

And yet for how fast I killed them, it wasn't fast enough. I know it, feel it. Taste the power that is surging in Lenneth. Someone has broken the chain I had locked in place around her, it's suppressing properties no longer subduing her own divinity. She is a Goddess, but one restored to the full extent of her powers. Ones that rival my own. I actually scream, the enraged bellow echoing off the walls. I call Gungnir back to my hand, vowing to myself those left alive will pay for what they've done.

I know I should take a moment to calm down. But every second is valuable, giving Lenneth the chance to remember just how to use her powers. I do not want to have to fight her, do not want to accidentally hurt her in an attempt to get her back under my control. There is no time for composure, no time to get my feelings under control. I go to her, Gungnir clasped tightly in my grip. I'm already tensing my arm, ready to lash out with Gungnir at the first warrior I see. I step through the ether, my movement fluid grace. I am poised to attack, but then draw up short, my eyes disbelieving of what they see.

There are bodies on the floor, forming a wide circle around Lenneth. The blood has splattered onto her, soaking into her hair and her dress. There is even a thick gob of an unidentifiable something dripping down her right leg. And in her hand, she holds a weapon, a sword. It is old, and looks as though it should have shattered the first time she used it. But power flows off it's blade, and intricate runes are carved into the ancient weapon. There is no doubt in my mind, that it is this sword that has freed Lenneth from her chain.

From what little attention I give the bodies, I can see their killer were merciful. Quick and efficient, not torturing them like I would have. But my mind refuses to contemplate just who is responsible for their murder. I actually try to come up with excuses, but then Lenneth turns to me. Her front is as bloody as her back, maybe even more. Her once pristine dress is now crimson colored, and sticking to her. There is even smears of blood on her face, as though Lenneth had used her bloodstained hands to brush back her hair.

For seconds we just stare at each other. I've forgotten how to breathe, looking at my bloodstained Goddess. Her blue eyes hold a vacant light to them, and her smile seems unnatural and out of place amidst this carnage. I am still trying to deny just who is responsible for these bodies, trying to ignore the fact that my Goddess' mind has clearly been broken.

I think I could have stayed frozen in place for the rest of eternity. But then slowly, her eyes darkened, the blue becoming self aware once more. Her smile doesn't falter, if anything it becomes happier. And all because she's recognized me. The sword in her hand drops to the floor, it's no longer part of her awareness. Nor does Lenneth notice the bodies, gliding gracefully forward. Lenneth doesn't even stumble when her foot hits one of the bodies. She just frowns and steps over it, like it is nothing more than an obstacle.

I thought I couldn't move, but then Gungnir is falling. My arms are now full of her, Lenneth clinging to my chest. She is crying, silent tears flowing down her cheeks. The tears are at odds with her smile, Lenneth not even aware of her upset. I can do nothing but close my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head.

"I missed you." Lenneth confides in me. It is something she has never admitted to me before, not even at her loneliest when it was obvious how much she longed for my company. "Did you take care of the bad people?"

My voice comes out hoarse. "Yes. Yes, I did." She looks up at me, her smile even brighter.

"Good." To Lenneth, all is right in the world now that the threat to me, to us is gone. She rubs her cheek against my jacket, then wrinkles her nose cutely. "You stink of them." I do not point out that she wears the same scent, not sure what will happen if I force her to realize what she has done.

"Easily fixed." I manage to say, my hands moving to lift her up into my arms. She just cuddles closer to me, looking up at me with a fixated stare. It is unnerving to be the sole focus of her attention. I'm realizing that to Lenneth I am the only thing that exists for her in this room. I have not yet begun to process how I feel about this change in her, my own feelings and thoughts unsettled by the days' events.

I don't even look for her chain, instead carrying her into the bathroom. She never breaks her stare, and is reluctant to leave my arms even for the short time needed to set her down before the pool of water. My hand are shaking when I begin taking off her clothes, throwing the dress to the floor. My own clothes join it, and a spell has them disintegrate into nothing.

I quickly take us into the water, wanting the blood gone from us both. Lenneth hardly sits still for this, squirming about in delightful ways. I have to take a firm grip on her, force her to remain seated on my lap. Even now it is difficult not to be affected by her, my hand rubbing soap into her skin. I try not to, but can't help but admire the way the water cascades down her breasts, nor am I unappreciative to the way she moves on top of me.

I have always wanted Lenneth, always desired her. From that first sighting, to even now, when her mind is not wholly hers. I will always want her, will never be sated no matter how many times I have her. It's never enough, no matter how often we join our bodies, within seconds of parting the feelings I have for her attempt to bring me under. I could suffocate from need of her, and it is only when I am buried deep inside her that I truly live.

Does it come as any surprise to you, that even now, I move to take her? But then I don't expect you to understand my need. Or my love for her. It is a love that has driven me to do unspeakable things. It is a love that has had me kill, has had me unravel time itself. I have tampered with the very laws of nature, mocked the Gods, and become a deity by my hand alone. This same love has driven me to posses Lenneth, to take by force what she would deny me. I've destroyed her world, supplanted it with one of my own making. I've done everything possible to ensure we would be together, that we would continue to exist side by side. Even if Lenneth's mind completely unravels, I will still be there for her.

I will take care of her. Like I have always done. There is no greater testament of my love than that. Lenneth's every need will be seen to, her every desire taken care of. I've devoted myself to her, and nothing will change that. No matter what awaits us, in the endless stretch of eternity. Even if the rest of creation falls into ruin, Lenneth and I will be together. And all because I will it, nay demand it! There is no point to living, not without her. If she hates me, or if she loves me, even if her mind falls apart. As long as I can have her with me, by my side, I will be happy.

I'm happy right now, and all because Lenneth is returning my kisses. It is more than just a yielding she offers, but sweet, eager participation. Her hands touch my face, holding me still as if I would ever think to move away from her! Lenneth is not just satisfied with my lips, she starts kissing all over my face, her soft mouth touching down every where she can reach. I revel in the attention, my own hands wandering down her body.

It's a path they've traveled a million times before, familiar but always intriguing. From the weight of her breasts, to the roundness of her bottom, or the flat plains of her stomach, I love every inch of her. I could linger forever in worship of her, and more times than not I have. And if she would stop kissing me even for one-second, I'd move to do so now.

But Lenneth seems loathe to stop. It's as if she is making up for all the touches she denied us all these years. No matter what my hands do, it seems I cannot succeed in distracting her. Not even when my hands turn gripping, fingers digging into her hips as I drag her into place over my erection. If anything she kisses me harder, tongue thrusting into my mouth. Never has she been this eager, Lenneth starting to shove back against my invading thrust. It tears a startled cry out of my throat, the warm, inviting feel of her body constricting around the tip of me.

I've been with her innumerable times. And yet always I am taken aback by how good she feels gripping me. Together we move as I haul her down, my cock settling deep within her. Time seems to freeze as I pause to savor the feel of her, my fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises on her skin. I just want to hold her for the moment, stayed joined with Lenneth for as long as I can hold out. If I don't move, this won't end. We'll be connected for forever.

But not moving is an impossibility. It is a biological imperative, one that has command of us both. My hips begin to move, to thrust in and out of her. My hands are a guiding force on Lenneth's hips, showing her the bouncing motion that will be pleasing to us both. We find our rhythm, bodies making music together. Lenneth's hands are on my shoulders, clinging to me there as she moves. When her head falls back, my kisses fall on her throat, taking it as the offering she meant.

My love for her is expressed in many ways. But none of those expressions feels half as satisfying as the moment when we join together. This is as close as our souls will come to touching, as close as I can be with her. In this moment, we are one, unwilling, unable to part. I continue to move with Lenneth, trying to stave off the ultimate enjoyment. And all because I never want this moment to end.

Not even the knowledge that eternity is ours is incentive enough to finish. I am as desperate today as I was all those millennia ago, my body so frantic and burning for her. Not even the cooling water around us can lessen the fever within me, Lenneth getting under my skin, creeping into every corner of my body.

It should be a relief when I come, the ultimate pleasure filling me. But that desperate feeling lingers, my arms wrapping around Lenneth, holding her possessively against me. I can feel the tremors of her body, her passage doing rhythmic squeezing that signal she's reached her own climax. The rest of her has become limp, my Goddess replete with satisfaction.

She actually seems close to sleeping, and only at my prodding does she lift her head. I catch sight of her eyes, and they are like nothing I've ever seen before. She is not the Lenneth I've known for all these years. Nor is she the vacant eyed goddess who had greeted me upon my arrival to the bedroom. She is somewhere in between, her eyes betraying that her mind is not wholly her own.

I've done this to her. Of that I have no doubt. Do you think me cruel to have driven the woman that I love to this point? You would not be alone in that. But I suppose it's fitting. Because Lenneth has reduced me to a similar state, making me crazy for her.

The end...

Michelle

Alpha Huntress, aw...I say better late than never. I really appreciate your words, even if this story wasn't too your liking. Especially with OSVP (Which needs a title seriously.) grabbing your attention more. Though I am looking forward to your reaction to the sole Lezard POV in this Inescapable fic! Wow! So yo OSVP is such a fave, you could die happy once it's been completed? XD I'm flattered and honored!

Sadly, I don't agree with the Dark Drabble comments. I may have to reread, but I seem to recall Lenneth in Dark Drabble wasn't fighting that much except for when she ran from him. I guess I'm mainly thinking of the fact she tried to commit suicide, she was that desperate to get away from him. Hmm...maybe now I do see your point. That Lenneth was willing to do anything to get away, even kill herself. Though I didn't think there was anywhere as much fight in her there, as there was in here. You know? Or maybe I'm sucking at explaining myself...but I haven't been to sleep yet...

Ha ha ha! Yeah, the Lucian jab...I'm glad it thrilled you to see her find Lezard his better in something! XD Thank you for the powerful comment. When I set out to write this, the scene that was most strong in my head was ending the fic with her chains severed, and she doesn't act to improve things. She kills her rescuers cause she's that far gone, that broken inside. It was hard to keep quiet about the ending scene. Personally I think I should have ended it at six...but I had some requests begging me that they wanted a Lezard POV...but I feel I really messed up the Lezard POV. D:


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